


All Is Fair In Love And War

by CursedCursingViking



Category: Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, Michael Fassbender - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Night Manager (TV) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Arms Dealing, Assassins & Hitmen, BDSM, Cheating, Divorce, Double Agents, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Multi, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Patron of the Arts, Physical Abuse, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Smut, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2019-11-07 16:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CursedCursingViking/pseuds/CursedCursingViking
Summary: Thomas and Sasha are secret intelligence agents brought together to spy on international businessman Michael Falkbaum. In an elaborate scheme to tear down Michael and co.s' crime syndicate, they experience both sides of the coin of a jet-set life - can they bring the hidden side of Michael to the light of day? How far are they willing to go to undermine him? And when is a sacrifice too big?A story showing the varying faces of love. Pride, lust, comfort, passion masks what drives us all.This all came from a Wired Youtube video about the CIA





	1. Coworkers

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the dear Caffiend, whose amazing works have inspired this piece and whose kind words keep encouraging me. 
> 
> We'll see where this goes! I'm happy to share this story, after much worry - there is a first time for everything, but that doesn't make it less intimidating ;)

Thomas glanced over the file in his hand, the picture of a young woman catching his eye. Sasha Lizaveta Koshkina. A round face framed by dark brown hair. Big honey-brown eyes stared back at him intensely, as if the photographer had instructed her to look all the way through the camera. 

His new coworker. 

He didn't know much about her, except for what Judy had told him and what basic fact he could read in her journal. She was born in Belarus but had received most of her training in Russia and Ukraine, which was also where most of her missions had taken place. A few trips to England now and then, a task or two in Germany. Proficient in multiple languages, most notably English, Russian, German, Japanese, Thai and Danish. Three “disappearances”. 

All of it was quite impressive, and he was looking forward to meeting her. It had been a while since he had been on an elaborate task. He was sitting in the waiting hall outside Judy’s office in the compound’s Intelligence Centre, waiting for her to call him and Sasha in for the briefing. Wasn’t Sasha supposed to have arrived already?

\----------

Sasha was sitting by a desk in the jet, making herself familiar with the skills of her soon-to-be coworker. All his training had been in England. All his missions had been in England. He spoke English and French. Was that it?

“Are you sure it’s the right file?” she asked the transference assistant who had been assigned bringing her to England. Or her babysitter, as Sasha liked to call them. As if she couldn't get into another country herself? 

The man looked up from his computer and looked at her with confusion. “Thomas Heston, right?”

“Yes. Is this really his file?” she asked, seeming unimpressed. 

The man walked over to Sasha and looked at the papers in front of her. It surely was Thomas’ name and id number, and all the information seemed correct. The only thing that could be pointed out was that his picture was a tad outdated. His friends open, clean-shaven face smiled up at him with warm eyes from the photo. Felling a bit lost, he asked, “What seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

“According to my handler, Hanwell was adamant to bring me in. I figured the case would require a more thorough skill set than what Heston appears to have,” Sasha answered coldly. She was angry, Judy Hanwell, the president of the English Secret Intelligence Service, had pulled her from a case in Ukraine. Sasha had been spying on an ambassador from Crimea who allegedly committed treason back in 2014. Now, they had sent in some guy from a rank beneath her, who she doubted could do the job, and sent Sasha off to England, probably to fix some minor mess Judy didn't want to send her own agents into. It wouldn't be the first time anyway. 

“I assure you, Heston is quite capable, and Hanwell picks her agents very carefully,” the brit assured her, trying to fight back the offence he had taken. How obnoxious could she possibly be? 

“Is this another one of those undermining résumés you Englishmen are so fond of? They’re unprecise,” she stated, remembering how her handler, Mark, often had told her the MI6 excluded certain details about their agents in case of a breach. ‘They should make stronger walls, not hide less treasure,’ the man would say.

Before the two agents could break into a fit of snarky remarks, the captain interrupted over the intercom; “Please, take a seat and fasten your seatbelts. We will be arriving soon.”

\----------

The elevator door opened and a group of people stepped out and continued in each their direction. Sasha glanced through the lounge she had seen so often before. A little too often, in her opinion. This mission had better be something. She took a seat across from a bearded man with glasses, who was sitting and reading. The agent who had accompanied her from Ukraine went up to Judy’s assistant and announced their arrival. 

Thomas felt the presence of someone new in the room. Lots of people had been passing by, but this time someone had sat down. He looked up and laid his eyes upon a woman, who could only be Sasha. She looked exactly like her picture, the same analyzing glance he saw in the photo, now taking in her surroundings. 

“Koshkina?” he asked, trying to get her attention and verify who she was.

Sasha looked up when a smooth voice called her name. It came from the man across the room. Studying his face and finally recognizing his light blue eyes, she realized it was Thomas. 

“Heston?” she asked inquiring, as he rose and extended her hand for her to take. She mirrored him and shook his hand. 

“Indeed!” he said with a smile. “But just call me Thomas.” 

“Sasha,” she offered, letting some of her irritation melt away for kindness. If she was going to spend the next few weeks with him, she would have to get over Judy’s decision to pull her from Ukraine. Mark had approved after all. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Although, I must admit I thought you looked shorter in your picture,” Thomas said with an embarrassed chuckle. 

His playfulness surprised Sasha. It was something she rarely saw in other agents, especially of higher ranks. For now, she tried not to label him as unprofessional, and just see him as kind. Giving in to the weirdly open atmosphere, she answered with a challenging smile, “It’s nice to meet you too. Don’t worry about my height, our photographers are not as skilled as yours. The one who took your photo managed to make you look ten years younger!” 

Thomas looked at her in shock, for a moment making her fear she had stepped over the line. Then, much to Sasha’s relief, he threw his head back and laughed out loud. All of his body was twitching from the joyous outburst. When he had laughed it out, he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, still flashing all of his teeth in a wide smile. 

“It’s the beard, isn’t it?” he looked at her shyly. 

“How old is the picture in your journal?” she asked him, still smiling at her accomplishment of amusing him. 

“Only a few months,” he laughed, “I had no idea the beard makes me look that old!” 

“Aw, don't worry about it, the glasses have some of the blame too,” she added with a wink and threw Thomas into another fit of laughter. 

Feeling slightly guilty for ridiculing him, she comforted, “I am just joking! You look very nice, both in your picture and now. Like a classic Englishman,” she added. 

“Thank you, darling, you’re too kind!” he said as he stifled his breathing with a sigh. 

Before Sasha could answer, Judy opened the door to her office and brought her employees back to reality; They had work to do.


	2. The Russian Method

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha is briefed on the case and Thomas receives additional information he hadn't expected. An awkward conversation.

Judy brought the agents into her office and asked them to take a seat, urging them to an almost lounge-ish area. The room was big and full of natural light that cascaded in from the big floor-to-ceiling windows. The agents sat down on a couch as Judy placed herself in an armchair across from them. Between them, there was a glass coffee table, set with cups, saucers, small plates and both coffee and tea. 

“How British,” Sasha noted with an amused smile when Judy urged them to take a cup. 

“What usually happens in Russia? Are you offered vodka?” Thomas asked teasingly. 

“In the fifties, maybe. When you would have been offered sherry,” she shot back with a look as if to playfully say ‘fight me’. 

“Touché, darling,” He said and turned his attention to Judy who seemed on edge to get started. 

“If you two could focus now, that would be lovely,” she said, sounding strained. 

“What is the matter?” Thomas asked concerned, referring to his handlers tight expression. She might be a stern woman, but she seemed troubled. 

“We will get to that,” Judy answered. The wrinkles on her face seemed deeper than usual, despite the tight frown she also sported. 

Sasha knew what the expression meant. She rolled her eyes, tired of always being brought out to do these things. “Is it another trafficking case?” she asked annoyed. 

Thomas looked confused from the one woman to the other and back again a couple of times before Sasha settled his curiosity. 

“Judy often brings me or other eastern agents in for sex-related crime investigations. The SVR spares no expenses to make missions succeed.” She leaned back in the couch with a sigh before she continued. “We understand that sometimes the mission is more important than an agent's personal comfort. It’s a part of the job. What I don’t understand, however, is why you find it necessary to haul me from a treason investigation in Crimea, that might be directly connected to the referendum and the revolution, just to use me as bait to track down some horny criminal assholes - anyone else could do it! If you trained your agents to be more robust anyway.” She was angry and she let it show.

“Not this case,” Judy answered impatiently, more with herself than with Sasha, “I need you, I honestly don’t trust anyone else with this. I have never sent you on a mission where you were… touched, right?” 

“No, but it wouldn’t matter to me anyway. Why does it matter to you?” Sasha grew impatient too, her voice getting colder and her tone harsher. “You treat these cases as if they’re a big deal - of course, they are important and I want those people stopped as much as you do - But you think they will touch me, and you think they will scar me before you can send in armed operatives and “save me”. But they won’t. You think exposing me to a bit of groping is “the Russian Method” or whatever you call it. Judy, you have never used it. You probably never will. Get down from your high horse and stop pretending this mission is going to be any different.” By the end of her small rant, Sasha was standing, ready to leave and call Mark to get back to Ukraine. Judy could not keep calling her in to be some decoy to track down pimps, especially if she had to be so embarrassed on behalf of Sasha for it. 

“Sasha, sit down please.” Judy was saddened by the foreigner's words. She knew she overreacted in Sasha’s eyes when it came to sex crimes, but this wasn't about that. She was embarrassed, no, ashamed to ask this of an agent - another woman. She kept her voice calm as she continued. “This time, it truly is different.” 

Sasha saw through her fury and looked at Judy properly. She looked sad, almost broken. A wave of pity and shame flushed over her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

Judy cut her short; “Don’t be. Just understand that it’s hard for me to ask for this. I genuinely never thought I would have to use the Russian Method…” 

When she trailed off, Thomas saw his chance to finally inquire with a burning question. He had been sitting quietly like a well-behaved schoolboy, as the two hot-headed women argued. Awkwardly raising his hand to draw attention to himself, he asked hesitantly; “What exactly is the Russian Method?”

Judy shot Sasha a glance the girl couldn't describe for her life. It was pleading and disgusted at the same time. Sad and awkward. Even amused? She looked at her confused, trying to figure out what the elder woman wanted. Then looked at Thomas’ confused face. She shrugged, sighed and said bluntly; “We are going to have sex for the sake of the mission - either with each other or somebody else.”

Thomas looked around the room awkwardly, at Judy, down at the coffee cup in his hand, back up to Sasha. “Okay,” he said meekly. 

Sasha could tell he was trying to hide his shock. She understood why he was surprised, but not why he would so deliberately try to hide it. Out of respect maybe? As to not offend the two women? Suddenly, Sasha felt awkward in the silence too and tried to fill it. “It’s generally frowned upon in the states and the UK. Most of Europe and “the western world” too. It's not unheard of in Russia and Eastern Europe and so on… However, we…” She trailed off as Judy had. 

Thankfully, Judy began talking when Sasha stopped. “Anyway,” she said, “about the mission - You will be spying on Michael Falkbaum, an Irish businessman. He owns several pharmaceuticals companies, but something isn’t right. He often associates himself with Hugh Moore and Jeremy Oxley. Moore is a weapons manufacturer and Oxley owns mines all over the world. Their case has been active for years, and we’re slowly closing in on them, but more and more things keep coming up. Falkbaum is the latest news.”

Thomas and Sasha listened carefully as Judy explained the situation. Hugh and Jeremy were allegedly running a syndicate, manufacturing and trading illegal weapons. Their frequent association with Michael was unsettling. If he really was a part of the mob, what did he contribute with? Medicine and firearms weren’t exactly related… 

Judy was back to her usual business-minded demeanour, much to the relief of the younger agents. Sasha thrived in the structure of the information, Thomas was just happy the woman wasn't feeling on edge any more. 

“You will pretend to be a couple, married for a few years, just moved to London. We will situate you in Falkbaums neighbourhood. Thomas has already been engaged and has interacted with multiple of Michael’s associates.” She looked at Sasha. “Your job will be to befriend him, most of all. You just have to match Michael in terms of ‘way of life’,” she added with almost a snort at Falkbaums obnoxiously lavish lifestyle. 

“If you don't mind me asking,” Thomas began. He knew they were going to send someone in as his wife as a part of his alter ego’s life, but something didn’t make sense to him. “Why is sex necessary to the mission? No offence -” he quickly corrected himself, looking to Sasha to make sure she understood his question was not ill meant. 

Sasha shrugged and waved her hand, as to say ‘none taken’ when Thomas realised he could have come off rude. 

The tense and cringed expression returned to Judy’s face. “We need to earn his trust and Falkbaum isn’t exactly known for being easy bait on that front.” She stared at nothing in between Thomas and Sasha, wishing the meeting could soon come to an end. Neither of the agents said anything, and Judy grew desperate. “The council has decided that we will spare no means. Everything is on the table if it can bring us closer to the sly bastards. Everything,” she repeated with a squint, sounding almost like an old fashioned and displeased governess. 

“Tell us more about who we will be portraying,” Sasha offered, to relieve the tension in the room, now that she got the memo of why exactly she was brought in. 

Judy rose and walked over to her desk. She picked up the files that had been laying and waiting and went back to the lounge. She handed one to Sasha, as Thomas took out the one he’d been given a few weeks earlier. They opened them and glanced over the first page. “William James Gardner and Tammy Davis Gardner. Married for two years. William is the new executive finance manager at Arbor Pharma, one of Michael’s companies. Peter Wilkens, who held the position previously, was one of Falkbaum’s right-hand men, but passed recently, hence the rushing of this case. We have the chance to place Thomas in his stead. Hopefully, he will take William to him quickly. Oh, and Tammy is William’s wife.” 

Sasha snorted. The council had William pinned down to the smallest detail, but all information Judy could offer her about Tammy was her marital status. 

“You need to sell it as someone of Michaels “rank”,” Judy answered, more to settle her own irritation than Sasha's. 

“I know,” she said with an amused smile, “I just have to be a trophy to be won surprisingly often.”

“Not of my accord, I hope you know that.” Judy was exasperated, but she knew Sasha understood. She was a smart woman, often using a cocky attitude to hide disapproval when she was degraded. “You can give her some purpose or interests - painting maybe? We could supply you with a studio downtown, eventually. Music maybe? It’s your call. Anyway, now, they’re moving to London, but you can read all of this in the journals. You move in next week.” 

The agents closed the files and stood, suddenly towering over the older woman. Unbothered, she followed them to the door. “In the meantime, you can spend the time getting to know each other - all four of you.” She stopped and looked at the agents. “Your wardrobe, accommodations and paperwork are almost done. You’re dismissed. Have a good day.” She smiled and opened the door, nodding at Thomas and Sasha who nodded back. 

They walked out of Judy’s office and went through the lobby where they had been waiting earlier. They had barely entered the elevator when Judy called after them; “Oh, and Thomas! - Lose the beard!”


	3. Keep Me Up Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Sasha plant the first seeds of William and Tammy's life in London, while falling smack-dapper-doodle into each other's arms, more or less gracefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally chapter 3 - The Last Preparations, and 4 - Keep Me Up Late, but now, after a last-minute decision, they have been merged into one.

Sitting in her suite, Sasha read through the file Judy had given her. Tammy seemed easy enough to portray. An art enthusiast with a great sense of style - Every trophy wife ever. She had done it before, she could do it again, no big deal. 

She went over the attached journals regarding Moore’s and Oxley's cases. After what seemed like hours of reading about arms deals, terror organizations, and torture, jetlag and tiredness cradled Sasha, as the early darkness of the winter months lulled her to sleep. 

At 4 am, her body decided no more rest was necessary. She thrashed around, trying to force herself back into the arms of relaxation in her warm bed, in a desperate attempt to reset her internal clock. 

When she realized she was going to fail, she gave up and went to check out the compounds gym. She brought her swimsuit and a towel with her, knowing exactly what she was looking for. She went outside the residential park and walked towards the sports hall. The whole area was restricted and closed off from the public, but that didn't mean it was void of activity. The anthill was slowly buzzing alive, and soon operatives of all kinds and ranks would busily strut around in the daily waltz of the remote compound south of London. But for now, it was only Sasha and a few other early risers, making their way to the gym or the gardens. 

She found her way to the pool and slipped in the water soundlessly. The cool water made her mind and body agree; yes, she was indeed awake. She began swimming laps, ignoring the chlorine water stinging in her eyes. She preferred to be able to see where she was going. Concentrating on holding her breath, she pushed herself, lasting longer, lap after lap. This was her world, where she was in charge and not dependant on others. Where she was alone. There was only Sasha in the water, fighting against its weight. She pushed herself through the clear and constant wall with every stroke, proving herself to no one. 

“Koshkina?” A voice brought her out of her bubble, and she finished her lap. She laid her arms on the edge of the pool to steady herself and looked for the man who had called her name. Her ‘babysitter’ was standing at the end of her lane, looking at her with crossed arms. “Your presence is requested in the wardrobe department,” he stated shortly and defensively, before softening up a moment later, “do you require my assistance or can you find the way yourself?” 

Sasha mirrored his new tone, as an agreement to put yesterday’s dispute behind them. “I have been there before, so I think I will manage. Thank you.”

The agent nodded and left. Sasha got out of the water, washed and changed, before heading on. 

 

The first thing she laid her eyes upon when she entered the workshop was a beardless, contact-wearing Thomas, trying on a suit. She froze in the doorway, something she rarely did. 

“Hello, darling,” he said and shot her a smile and adjusted his cuffs. “How do I look?”

Sasha eyed him from head to toe; his brown curls were tamed back, and now that he didn't have the beard, she could see his clearly defined jaw and sharp cheekbones. The suit fit snug to his figure, showing his broad shoulders and small waist. Before she had dwelled too long she answered, “like your picture.” 

“So, younger?” 

“Yes. Less like a college professor.” She moved from the door and into the room.

“Is that good or bad?” He turned to look in the mirror.

“Depends on what you like,” said Sasha, as a seamstress ushered her to a changing room in a corner. 

“And what do you like, Miss Koshkina?” 

“Save the pillow talk, thanks.” The tailor, Jeffery, who Sasha recognized from her previous missions with the SIS, interrupted their conversation and gave her a bundle of clothes to put on. “You haven’t changed much since the last time, right?” he asked. 

“Not on purpose. All my measurements should be the same,” she answered. 

“Great. Thomas is out here, gaining and losing weight like a Hollywood actor,” he rolled his eyes and closed the curtains to the stall to let her change. 

She donned the obviously expensive clothes she had been handed and stepped back out into the room. The warm skirt ended just at her knee, exposing part of her stocking-clad legs until her ankle boots hid them again. With the soft sweater, she was well prepared for the still cool weather outside. 

Jeffery took a few steps back and assessed her look. “Well, everything seems to fit as it should,” he said thoughtfully and relieved, “then you just keep it on for your outing, sweetheart, and we’ll all get on with our businesses - we have so much shopping to do!” 

“My outing?” Sasha asked. “Where am I going?” 

“Our outing,” Thomas explained. “We’ll be going to check on the house as the movers get things in place, so we don't just show up out of nowhere next Monday.” 

“I guess I didn’t get the memo, then,” she pondered, “But it’ll be nice to see the house,” she added with a smile. 

“Let’s go then!” Thomas smiled and held out his hands for her to take, but Jeffery interrupted them.

“Rings! How will you ever sell it as a married couple if you don't even have rings…” he tutted and picked up two velvet boxes. He handed them their rings, and an unromantic moment later, Tammy and William replaced Sasha and Thomas. 

 

Rolling into the villa's driveway in the blue Jaguar, they took in the view of their new home. The movers were unloading boxes and setting up furniture, all under the strict supervision of an interior decorator. When she noticed the couple, she took a break from bossing the workers around and began to babble. “You have been so lucky with this property! The simplicity of the French provincial facade goes amazingly with your modern style. Also considering the recent renovation, it is almost Scandinavian!”

In a moment, Thomas didn't even recognize Sasha’s voice - she was filled with excitement and a passion that matched that of the short, strict woman. “Right? The understated stucco is something straight out of a magazine! And it’s all so light!” she gushed. 

Thomas smiled fondly at Sasha. Who would have thought she was so interested in architecture? She had seemed so closed when he first met her, and now she was chatting about Georgian revival and brutalism's traces in modern architecture with a complete stranger? He had so much to learn about his new co-worker. His wife? He knew he would never get a close suburban family when he took the job at the SIS, but he had never thought that a mission would grant him a spouse, even if she was a pretend. This was the closest he would get to domestic bliss. 

He followed the women around the house, mindlessly taking in his surroundings. The big windows let waves of natural light in, despite the clouds diffusing the sunlight outside. Suddenly, Sasha’s arms were around him and she hugged him tightly. 

“We're going to be so happy here, William.” 

Her fondness took him by surprise, but he quickly recovered and didn’t let it show. “Of course we are,” he said and hugged her back, “we’re here together,” 

She laughed out loud with a smile that was pure sunshine. They thanked the designer and excused themselves to head back to their temporary home.

 

“So, you like architecture?” Thomas broke the silence in the car. 

“Tammy does,” Sasha answered shortly. She was looking out the window as if she didn’t even notice him. “When we’re away from the compound, we are Tammy and William.” 

“Have I offended you?” Thomas was confused by her almost harsh tone. 

“No? Why would you think so?” 

“You just sounded angry for a moment,” he explained himself. 

“I’m sorry about that. I’ve slept terrible, that might explain it. Not that it excuses it, of course,” she said in a low voice. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Thomas comforted, “we’ll get you home so you can sleep.” 

“No!” she said, almost a little loudly, “no, I have to get used to this time zone.” She closed her eyes and leaned back, rubbing her temples. 

“Then I’ll do my best to keep you up,” he said with a wink, causing her to smile. “I know we’re not at the compound yet. But, what does Sasha like?” 

“Sasha likes swimming,” she said and looked over at Thomas, “And filet mignon. And easter.” 

“All at once?” 

Sasha giggled. “No. What does Thomas like?” 

He sighed and thought for a moment. “He likes tennis. And weekend trips to France.” 

“I like those too,” Sasha said, “what do you speak more than English and French?” 

“Spanish, Greek, Korean.” Thomas knew where this was going. 

“Then why isn’t it on your file?” She asked with a challenging grin. 

“Don’t ask me, darling, I wouldn’t know,” he said and looked at her with puppy eyes and a broad smile as if to say ‘too bad’.

 

Many hours and a couple of drinks later, Sasha was laying on Thomas’ couch, as he sat on the floor next to it. 

“I don't get to be close to people often.” Her otherwise often stern facade was broken, but even when drunk, her accent didn't slip. “I wish I could be close to someone, and not have it be an act.” 

Thomas looked at her for a little bit, trying to come up with something to say. “I’m glad you told me,” he finally offered. 

“It’s only because I'm drunk.” She shut herself down and tried to ignore Thomas’ pitiful glance. He had seen right through her - It was an apology in disguise of an excuse. 

The silence was crushing in the dimly lit room. Suddenly, it was big and cold and empty - everything Thomas tried to prevent it from being. 

“I get lonely too,” he said. 

“Who said I get lonely?” She pulled her attention away from the invisible spot she had been aimlessly staring at. 

Thomas continued, undeterred by her defensive voice. “You did - not literally, but I can sense it. And it’s okay.” He moved up on the couch next to Sasha. 

How dare he expose her like that? She stared at him angrily for a bit, before she realized he didn’t mean to weaken her. She let her expression soften and asked, “How do you deal with it? The loneliness?” 

She looked so fragile. So small and breakable, with pleading eyes asking for shelter. Thomas took her hand. “I try to eliminate it. Establish close friendships with those I can. And I don’t try to accept it or pretend I don’t care. I lie enough for my job already.” He smiled at her. 

She smiled back to thank him, but the atmosphere was cuddly enough for her now, and she tried to change the subject. “How long have you had this job?” she asked. 

“Since I finished law school,” he said with a shrug. “So we’re closing in on fifteen years. How about you?” 

“I was trained from when I was sixteen. So, most of my education has been related to social studies, everything from psychology to linguistics to political science. But all of it was preparing us to become agents for the SVR. I graduated four years ago, I think.” She trailed off. 

“And you’ve already been on three missions that required you to disappear?” Thomas asked, slightly shocked. 

“Yeah, but it’s not really a big deal… It was only a few months each time, and there were almost no witnesses. They give us false identities for the mission instead of giving us new ones afterwards, too - It’s way easier than what they used to do.” 

“But still,” Thomas insisted, “your work is impressive! I’ve only had to go under twice and I've been in the field for three times as long!” 

“You can’t compare peo-” Sasha stopped in her tracks. “Wait, your file said you’d never gone under?” She moved closer to him with a curious stare. 

He threw his head back and laughed, eyes closed and showing of all his teeth. 

“What’s so funny?” Sasha couldn’t help but smile too. 

Thomas sighed and bit his lip. “You’re really displeased with the inaccuracy of my file, aren't you?” He looked at the stubborn girl with a curious and devilish smile. 

Sasha found herself lost, staring at him. He was assessing her mindlessly. “And so what? I’m just used to a higher standard!” she gave back. 

Thomas chuckled and rose. “Would you like another glass, darling?” His voice was soft and deep, making Sasha feel both at home and far away. 

She looked at her almost empty wine glass on the coffee table. “No thanks. I’ve had enough tonight,” she said. “Maybe some water?”

Thomas nodded and picked up their dirty glasses, before going into the kitchen. When he came back, he sat down on the opposite end of the couch and shot Sasha an evaluating glance. “So, Miss Koshkina,” he said and rubbed his upper lip, “I never got to hear your answer; regarding the professor look - what do you like?” 

“Seriously? You want to have the pillow talk before we’ve even had sex?” She chuckled and raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you suggesting we’re going to have sex, Miss Koshkina?” his sly smile told her he was joking. “How imprudent.” 

“As husband and wife, isn’t it expected?” She waved her wedding ring to remind him of their union. 

“Well, we’re at the compound, aren’t we? So who are we? Who are you?” He adjusted himself on the couch and leaned over to Sasha, taking her chin between his thumb and index finger. He studied her face, both to challenge her and to take in her features. 

“Tammy, Sasha, Thomas, William… What’s the difference?” she shrugged and winked at him. 

He licked his lips mindlessly. “I was hoping we could find out.” 

Sasha pushed him back and straddled him. “Let’s go then.” She let one hand trace around his head and brought his face to hers, letting her lips crash with his. 

For a moment, Thomas couldn't move. She came over him like a tidal wave, bringing down his defences and leaving him breathless. She bit his lip, and it was as if an electrical current flashed through his tired body and woke him up. He wrangled one hand in her hair and let the other trail around her back, gaining him balance and dominance over the kiss. He wrestled her down to lay beneath him and let his mouth wander to her neck, biting and nibbling her pale skin. 

Sasha skillfully unbuttoned his shirt and let her hands roam over his broad, muscled chest, sending chills down his spine. He took one of her hands in his and whispered tenderly, “they’re cold.” 

“Then warm me up.” Her whisper was breathy and seducing, creating a clear contrast to Thomas’ gentle voice and touch. 

Suddenly, he pulled back. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Why not?” Sasha didn’t understand his concern.

“We’re coworkers,” he sighed impatiently. 

“So? We’re practically married, and who knows how long this mission is going to take? We might as well have a bit of fun.” She moved closer to him and gently placed a hand on his arm, trying to comfort and persuade him. 

“The only reason for us to implement the Russian Method is if it can bring you closer to Falkbaum,” Thomas said abruptly and moved to sit prudishly and face forward on the couch. He had a bitter look on his face. 

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Thomas!” Her sudden anger surprised Thomas, who frantically tried to piece together how he could have offended her. He didn’t get to ponder for long, as Sasha immediately continued. “Will you stop calling it “the Russian Method”? It makes me want to throw up! It alienates me, and frankly, it makes me feel disgusting.” She rose and left the couch, leaving Thomas behind. 

Standing by the window with her back turned to Thomas and the cold room, she added, mostly to herself, “Why can’t I just have one mission in England without feeling like a prostitute who learnt how to cock a gun?” 

Thomas realized his mistake and went to comfort the girl staring longingly out his living room window. “I’m sorry, Sasha. We - I don’t see you like that.” He tried to remain neutral, but internally he was kicking himself. How could he be so disrespectful? 

“I completely understand and respect the British military's decision not to use sex as a mean of bait in espionage. But I wish they would stop thinking of us as savages. As if we were stuck in the cold war.” A small smile and a chuckle sneaked up onto her face at the latter. “Or see us as how we’re portrayed in the movies; Ballerinas who get paid absurd amounts of money to spy on a man she eventually falls in love with.” 

The warmth slowly returned to the room, and Thomas chuckled with her. “So you mean to tell me that you don't dance? Frankly, I'm disappointed at this notion,” he said, his voice dripping with irony. 

Sasha smiled and turned to him. “As a matter of fact, I do dance. Investment in the arts, discipline and physical training builds character - not to mention muscle.” 

“I see,” Thomas mused, as he rubbed his upper lip again and looked over her body. Her skirt mostly accentuated her hips and ass and her sweater didn’t reveal much muscle either, only the slight curve of her breasts. Her exposed legs, however, were obviously strong - it was evident she liked swimming too. 

“Stop that,” she said, blushing. She hated to admit it, but his inspecting glance made her weak. “You look like you're going to eat me.” 

“Isn't that what we’re building up to?” Thomas narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Sasha, pushing her back against the wall and trapping her between his arms - the game was back on. 

She gave a mischievous smile and whispered, “Then bite me.” She closed her eyes as Thomas did her bidding. He bent his head down, biting and kissing her neck and ear, as she resumed her task of removing his shirt. His large hands found their way up under her shirt and wrestled it off her. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the young woman in front of him; Milky white skin was contrasted by the black lace bra that covered her breasts. A few freckles were scattered over her chest and shoulders. While he dwelled at her toned stomach, Sasha battled with his belt. The small ‘clink’ of the buckle being opened brought Thomas back from his preoccupation. He quickly and easily picked the slender woman up, hoisting one thigh over his hip with one hand as the other pressed her chest close to his. 

Now that her previous interest had been put out of reach, she turned her attention to his neck. Wrapping both legs around him to keep herself steady, she nestled her head in the crook of his neck, placing small, curious kisses along his collar bone, and entwined her fingers in his loose curls. 

Thomas carried her to his bedroom, where he put her down and began searching for the zipper of her skirt, as she returned to unbutton and unzip his pants as well. After a minute of fumbling and wrestling, they had each other naked, their clothes scattered over Thomas’ bedroom floor. He pushed her back against his mattress and kissed her again eagerly. One hand massaged her breast, pinching and pulling on her nipple. 

Sasha reached down and touched his cock, rubbing him harder. His long member already stood proud and pressed slightly against her inner thigh. “Pull my hair,” she whispered, and Thomas let his hand glide up her neck to the back of her head where he grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her head back into the pillow, before occupying the spot on her breast he just left with his mouth. Sucking and nibbling, he trailed back up to her level where she wrapped her hands around him and whispered in his ear: “Come closer. Fuck me, Thomas. I’m on birth control.” Her smooth voice was warm and needy with lust. 

He pulled back from her for a second to make eye contact. “I’m clean, but if-”

“I know, I am too,” she cut him off and tried to guide him back to her face to kiss him again, but her knowledge took him by surprise. 

“Wait, what? How do you know that?” He stared at her with a confused yet amused smile. 

“I’ll do many things for a mission, but risk getting an STD is not one of them. I can access any guys health journal faster than I can get him into bed.” Her villainous smile screamed nothing but ‘femme fatale’ as she shoved him away and onto his back and settled herself on him, straddling his hips impatiently. “Now, Thomas, if you don’t fuck me, then I’ll fuck you.” She stared at him, waiting for him to spar with her challenge. 

The shock vanished into thin air and he stared right back at her and whispered hoarsely, “Then fuck me, Sasha.” 

A second later she lowered herself onto his hard cock, drawing a deep groan from Thomas. She steadied herself against his toned abs and kept grinding her pelvis down into his, dragging her clit along his skin, sending shockwaves straight to her core. Once the initial wave of ecstasy had washed over him, he put his hands back to her soft breasts, pinching her nipples and making her moan. They just barely filled his palms, but fuck, they were so soft and warm. She bounced herself on him, enjoying the thrusts against her insides, and swiftly brought both her and Thomas to the brink of an orgasm. She clenched around him as she came, taking her pleasure from him and granting him his own. Her whole body tensed up, every fibre feeling the electric wave that rushed over her, as Thomas twitched beneath her as well, and came with her. One loud moan later, and she collapsed onto his chest with a deep sigh, pleasure and satisfaction flooding her body, until exhaustion and sleep took over.


	4. Wake Me Up Early

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awkward morning after, a Russian-style brunch, pillow talks and office sex.

Thomas woke up the next morning to an empty bed. He could vaguely recall falling asleep with Sasha in his arms. Where was she now? The scent of her sweat and the perfume Jeffrey had given her, still lingered in the covers. Did she regret last night? He covered his eyes and took a deep breath that was on the border of a self-disappointed sigh. He was in the middle of cussing himself out internally when he heard noise from the kitchen. He sat up and looked around the floor; her bra was still there. After years of one night stands, he knew to settle his worries. Bras weren't something women left behind. 

Bracing himself he got up to get dressed. In his slightly groggy morning state, he didn’t notice he was missing a pair of sweatpants as he grabbed himself one. 

When he reached the kitchen, the sight of Sasha wearing one of his old tees as she steeped tea, met his tired gaze, instantly freshening him up a bit. Her shoulders were relaxed, and her head was slightly bopping to the tune she was humming. “Good morning,” he awkwardly broke the silence - this wasn’t a situation he was used to. 

Sasha turned around, also awkwardly. Wiping her palms against the pants she had taken, she avoided his gaze and said in a low voice, “good morning.” Finally looking up at him she continued, “I’m sorry, it’s just that… skirts aren’t as comfy… you know,”

It took him a minute to realize that she was referring to the clothes she had borrowed. “Oh, no, it’s fine! No problem,” he babbled, trying to clear his mind. “I’m sorry, this is, I ummm, I’m awkward-” His hands were in his hair trying to tame his curls, or scratch his neck, or, or, or just do something where they weren’t big and awkward and in the way. He was too caught up in his own awkwardness to notice Sasha’s. 

She quickly grabbed the kettle to occupy one hand and put the other in her hair. ‘Copying people makes them feel secure around you,’ she reminded herself of the words from her first psychology lesson. Picking up where Thomas trailed off, she continued the string of ramblings. “Oh, no no, I’m the one who… you know, I didn’t - I don’t - it’s just… if I… you… yeah…” A smile crept up on her face as she realized the hilarity of the not-quite conversation. Deciding to break the toe-curling silence, she continued with more confidence, “I made breakfast. Sorry, I just left you to wake by yourself. I think I owe you a pillow talk by now.” She smiled and put the teapot on the small table, next to a plate on scrambled eggs and toast. 

Thomas smiled and took a seat opposite Sasha. “I suppose you do.” 

As they dished out the eggs and poured tea into their cups, Sasha began stuttering again. “I, you know, I don’t often… I don’t usually sleep over or see people the morning after. Pillowtalks are not frequent occurrences for me.” 

Thomas knew what she meant. With a job that severely limited the possibility of close relationships, he was also limited to friends with benefits and one night stands. “I’m not exactly used to them either,” he said in a welcoming voice - it might have been awkward, but at least it would make it easier to be open. 

“We’ll have to get used to them,” Sasha smiled as she sipped her tea. 

Thomas waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t, he urged her on. “Hm?”

“I um, I would have thought - we’re practically married, you know? And uh, I, I enjoyed last night, I figured we,” she rambled again. The cold and precise attitude she knew herself to most often was gone, and shyness had taken its place. Where did it stem from? Her eyes had wandered around his light kitchen, out the window overlooking the compound residential apartments, looking anywhere but at Thomas. It was obvious they weren’t on the same page - oh god, did he regret last night? Looking back at him immediately at the thought, she asked him. 

“Oh, no! Not at all - I really enjoyed it, I just.” Giving up on their hopelessly stumbly and awkward conversation, he put his face in his hands and rubbed his temples. “This is confusing,” he sighed. 

Sasha cut the woolly atmosphere with a clear question. “What do you think about this being a more or less regular thing?”

Thomas looked at her, trying to gauge her opinion on the matter. “What do you think?”

“I know what I think, but that wasn’t the question. Tell me your answer.” It was a tone that left no room for discussion. 

“I - I wouldn’t mind,” he said, however hesitantly, hoping not to offend Sasha. To his relief, she smiled and agreed. After a short pause, he continued. “These are blini, right?” He asked, referring to the small pancaked Sasha had made, trying to find a new topic, now they had finished off the previous. 

“Yes, my grandma’s recipe.” Sasha’s demanding tone was gone and she smiled fondly at the memories of her grandma. “She taught me how to make them. She would always start making the batter Sunday morning before we went to church. Then it would be ready to cook when we came home.” 

“You lived with her?” he asked curiously.

“Yes, or she lived with us,” Sasha began. Thomas listened carefully as she talked about her family - her father who died when she was too young to remember him, how her grandmother had moved in with Sasha and her mother when her brother was born. “It was easier for my mum with my grandma’s help - especially considering her loss, only a few months earlier.” To her own surprise, Sasha wasn’t shy anymore, but openly sharing memories of her childhood with someone she hardly knew? A sudden urge to stop talking contrasted her wish to continue. What on earth Thomas had done to her, to make her comfortable enough around him to share stories about Ба́ба, she didn’t know, but she knew it was nice, so why not continue? “Where did you grow up?” 

Thomas took his turn to speak. “London, with my mum and dad. But I spent a lot of my time away from them - boarding school, you know.” He told her about his sisters and how he wished he saw them more, but they lived abroad and he was busy too. “Do you keep in touch with your family?”

“I swing by as often as I can,” Sasha continued. “Do they know what you do?” 

“Yes, when they were put under civilian protection I kind of had to come clean - not that I tried to keep it secret. How about your family?”

“Of course they know,” Sasha chuckled, “It was Ба́ба’s idea for me to enrol in the programme - she was adamant I would serve justice to the world.” 

“Is she still alive? Your grandma?” He asked carefully, afraid to hurt the young woman. 

But Sasha laughed. Her heartwarming free laughter filled the room and assured Thomas she was alright. “She is not going to die anytime soon! She’s too stubborn. She’ll often say ‘I can still do good here, so why would God take me away? As long as I can walk to church and have communion, I don’t need to go to heaven to receive it’.” She smiled and took another sip of her tea. The satisfied happiness was evident on her face, and it was no doubt from the thought of her grandma. 

“She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?” Thomas asked. 

He was right, she told him. Ба́ба had taken much care of Sasha when her mother mourned her husband's death, and when she worked long hours to provide for her small family, Ба́ба had tucked Sasha in and told fairy tales and bible verses from memory. “She is very religious and insisted that we were baptised, so we could receive holy communion. When my brother got too sick to come to church, she would bring back a wine-soaked piece of bread for him and ма́ма. She was so mysterious and proud - it was as if she held all the answers to the universe.” 

“Orthodox?” he asked for clarification, and when she nodded ‘yes’ he continued, “are you a believer?” 

“Not really…” She looked away, more to concentrate than to avoid Thomas’ curious gaze. “It was an important part of my upbringing, but so was politics, other moral beacons and cultural pride… all because of Ба́ба…” She smiled fondly. “So when I went to school I kind of down-prioritized religion for other matters. The last time I really took to it was -” She cut herself off and concealed herself in layers of invisible winter coats. There was no need to tell Thomas anymore. Firing the ball back to him, she tried to put her focus somewhere else. “Are you religious?” 

“I guess I’m a casual protestant,” he smiled at her, thinking it best not to inquire further about her personal life. “I celebrate Christmas and so on, but I don’t consider it an essential part of my identity. I think it’s often a question of...” 

His voice faded out in Sasha’s ears as she moved her gaze from his eyes, all bright and blue, and let it wander over his beautiful features; the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, the small wrinkles by his eyes left by smiling broadly often, and his sculpted nose. His twinkling expression was warm and pulled Sasha from the cold she found herself stuck in moments before. She lost herself in his elegant face and didn’t realize she was staring. 

Thomas, however, did. He stopped slowly in his enthusiastic ramblings about identity, upbringing and culture and gazed back at the curious woman across the table. Her hands were under her chin, and her finger pushed slightly against her soft lips. Her eyes were locked somewhere right in front of him as if she was trying to look at every part of his face at one, which he figured she was; Her gaze wasn’t analyzing as usual, but relaxed and open. A small smile even found its way to her face. 

When she realized he had stopped talking she excused her rude behaviour while smiling, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” 

“How naughty, Miss Koshkina,” he began and narrowed his eyes as he moved closer

To her own surprise, she found herself blushing like a schoolgirl. “You sound like a professor,” she said, trying desperately to decide whether to push down her sudden arousal or dwell by it. 

He leaned over the table and folded his hands. “I think it’s about time you tell me, miss. What do you like?” His gravelly whisper made her make up her mind; she relished under his scrutinizing gaze and scholarly voice. 

Blushing a deeper shade of red, she managed a small murmur. “I don’t mind a professor.” She held her hands close to her body, balled up fists, pressing against her lower abdomen to relieve some of the quickly built up tension. 

“My, my, my, little Miss Koshkina. You seem utterly distracted. What has you so troubled?” He rose from the table and went over to stand beside Sasha, putting his fingers under her chin to make her finally look up at him. 

“I can’t seem to concentrate,” she managed. 

“Hmmm,” he mused with a satisfied smile. “And what do you suggest we could do to improve that, darling?”

She was lost for words. What was he doing to her? She hadn’t felt this way since she hired someone to make her this soft. “I - I don’t know,” she whispered and closed her eyes in defeat. 

He brushed his thumb over her soft lips before continuing in an authoritative voice. “I’m under the impression you’re an otherwise curious and eager student. What do you say I teach you a lesson? I’m sure some old fashioned discipline should get you right back on track.”

If he hadn’t held her face, and if she hadn’t been sitting down, she was sure she would have fallen over; Her body was buzzing and tingling, almost lifting her from her seat. She gave in to the feeling and his persuasive voice. “Yes, professor. I think I’d like that.” 

“Then come with me.” He took her hand and helped her stand before leading her towards his office - the room with the mahogany desk and throne-like leather chair would set the perfect scene, he knew for a fact. 

Breaking through his aroused thoughts of what to do to the sweet yet naughty girl, his common sense made him stop in the doorway. “Have you ever done something like this before?” he asked. “Been dominated?” 

She understood his hesitation - this wasn’t something you just did. Meeting his sober eyes, she answered clearly, “yes, but I’ve only seen professionals.” 

Smart girl, then she knew what she was in for and they could spend less time discussing logistics. Though, some things needed to be put out of the way already. Putting on a sterner demeanour, he continued, “good, then you know what I might expect from you. What are your li-” 

Sasha cut him off. “Thomas, please just move on. We can discuss limits another time, right now I want this, and nothing else. I’ll tell you to stop if I need it.” 

He stilled, wanting to ask if she was sure, but her eyes already answered him. Determined, he nodded and lead her into his office. 

She laughed nervously at the interior of the room; Full bookcases covered every wall, with the exception of a few shelves displaying a wide range of collector's items and other attention-worthy artefacts. Inspecting the miscellaneous rugby medals, group pictures, dried flowers, figurines and the impressive selection of Shakespeare’s and Middleton's prints, she chuckled, “How did you end up here… You should have been teaching at Cambridge…” 

“If it’s any comfort for you, I studied there.” He had taken a seat in the big chair behind the desk and nodded for Sasha to sit across from him. When she joined him, he continued. “For now, the closest I come to teaching is when I punish imprudent girls, such as yourself, Miss Koshkina.” His demeanour was again stern as he sighed and rose. “Wait here,” he ordered and left her alone in the shady room. 

She sat demurely and patiently on her small, hard chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap, as she waited for Thomas to return. The old wisdom of the office’s many bookshelves and dark wooden panels made her feel just the more put on the spot - like a young and naive girl put under the strict guidance of an older, wiser teacher. 

When Thomas came back, he did nothing but add to the vision; Sasha glanced back at him nervously when she heard the door open and saw, that in his hand he was holding a ruler. An amused smile pulled on her lips at the sight of the narrow piece of wood.

“Something amuses you?” he remarked patiently. 

“It’s just,” she began with slight hesitation. “I think I’ve been struck with worse.” She let her smile take full control over her expression, the instrument didn’t seem to be able to cause much damage. 

Thomas hummed a small chuckle. “I see. Canes or paddles, I imagine?” 

She nodded her head yes, and added: “Most things, really.” 

“But never a ruler…” he mused mostly to himself as he walked around her. “Then you are in for one hell of a lesson, miss. I plan on having you wailing by the tenth stroke. Here,” he ended his warning by handing her the ruler to examine. 

Her cocky smile faded as she hesitantly took it from his hands. The light piece of wood felt surprisingly sturdy and was thicker than she had thought. 

Thomas’ stern voice reached her ears as he walked around the table, and sat down across from her. “Bamboo, 30 centimetres long, four centimetres wide, five millimetres thick. Delivers quite a sting, I’m told. Much worse than the cane.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his throne as he looked at the obviously nervous girl, enjoying her restless fidgeting with the devilish stick that would soon bring her the agony she after all seemed to be urging for; he hadn’t failed to notice how she pressed her thighs together in an attempt to settle her arousal. She was probably dripping already… who would have known they shared this interest? Pulling his mind away from his delicious fantasies of what else they could do, he returned to the delicious reality that was about to play out. “Stand up, Sasha, and take off your pants.” 

She swallowed her hesitation and obeyed; putting the ruler on the desk, she rose and pulled the sweats over her hips and let them fall to the floor while looking Thomas in the eyes. His face was set in stone, only his hungry gaze revealed his devilish intentions. Sasha stepped out of the pants that had gathered around her ankles, folded them carefully and put them on the chair. Turning back to face her disciplinarian, she saw he hadn’t moved a muscle. What was he waiting for? Her stomach dropped and left an empty pot in her abdomen. She swallowed and put her fingers to the waistband of her undies, looking at Thomas with pleading eyes. 

He nodded. A determined signal that left no room for the begging Sasha desperately wanted to do. His strong brows cast shadows over his blue eyes, making them darker and hungrier. 

Gathering her courage, she complied to his silent order and pulled down her panties, hoping he didn’t notice the glistening spot on the panel between her legs. She put them on the chair with the pants and turned again to face her doom. 

Thomas was satisfied with her level of dress, so he rose from his seat and went to stand by Sasha’s side. He grabbed the ruler, and after a short inspection of it, he ordered her, “bend over the desk.” 

Demurely, she followed his command and laid her chest flat on the table, each palm face down on the mahogany as well. 

“Are you ready?” he asked in an authoritative voice, a clear difference to her barely-loud-enough-to-hear “yes, sir.” 

The first bruising hit fell, stinging deep into Sasha’s skin, causing a high pitched yelp to escape her lips. The second drew a deep groan from her as she clenched her fist and pressed her forehead into the table to stifle herself. The third hit, delivered right to her sit-spots, made her knees buckle and cave, but Thomas was on her like a hawk on its prey. He grabbed her hips the moment she broke the position and put one of his long legs behind hers to hold her in place. 

“I suggest you stay still and take your punishment like a good girl, little miss,” he said stoically, even though she was wearing on his patience. When her quiet “yes, sir,” reached him, he resumed spanking her, delivering stinging whacks to her backside. 

By the tenth stroke, she really was wailing. Long cries of agony echoed through the dim room as Thomas brought the ruler down on her ass one last time. As one of his big hand soothed her deeply blushed cheeks, she dried her eyes and sniffled. He really hadn’t held back. She let him comfort her, his soft hushing and reassurances that it was all over and done soothed her cries, as he let his hand slide down to her wet centre. 

“I guess it wasn’t too bad, huh?” he teased as he pressed his long fingers against her entrance. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m going to make you feel. so. much. better.” With every breathy word, he pumped his fingers inside of her, dragging over the soft sides of her inner walls. His upper body was bent over her and his chest pressed into her back. His mouth was at her neck placing soft kisses, as his other hand travelled up under her shirt to her warm breasts, where he kneaded and tugged until low moans escaped Sasha’s lips. 

Thomas helped her stand and turned her around to kiss her. His hands were in her hair and on her lower back, holding her close, while his tongue demandingly pressed against her lips, as he pushed her back onto the desk and spread her legs. Positioning himself between them, he pulled his pants and boxers down to reveal his hard cock. 

Sasha wrapped her toned legs around him to pull him closer. Urging him to touch her again, she took hold of his hands and put them back on her body. 

Holding her in place with one hand and his chest pressed against hers, he pushed his long fingers deep into her deliciously warm, wet cunt. He dragged his fingertips agonizingly slow over her insides, making the submissive woman writhe and moan until he found her g-spot. He pressed against it immediately, causing Sasha to buckle with a strained wail and cling to him like a scared girl. “Shhh, baby, I’ve got you,” he hushed her and held her closer. 

“Please sir, I want you inside me,” she begged, desperate for something bigger than just his fingers. 

“Ah ah! Not yet,” he tsked. His thumb rubbed over her clit, pressing to the same rhythm as his other fingers pumped. Slowly and steadily, with a hand on her breast and his mouth on her neck, kissing and sucking, he brought her closer and closer to her climax. Feeling the quivering woman tense up around him, he whispered, “come for me now, Sasha,” and pressed the pads of his fingers firmly against her g-spot. 

The girl arched her back and forced out a strained moan as she obeyed his command. Hands in her lover’s hair, she tried to hold on to reality before hormones and pleasure easily dragged her into a subspace-like state of mind, where her thoughts shut off, and only her physical senses responded to Thomas’ touch. 

Kissing the girl softly, while praising her with whispers she didn’t hear, he brushed his hands over her skin, feeling her tense muscles relax and let go. As the girl calmed down, he pulled down his pants and rubbed himself hard to the view of the panting Sasha underneath him. He hushed the girl again as he pushed himself into her and picked up a lazy pace. He let her hold him close as he fucked her slowly, enjoying how her moans rose again from the tired lair they had hidden in after her first orgasm. She wrapped her long legs around him and urged him closer, moaning as she felt her second orgasm build with every thrust of Thomas’ hips. His long cock dragged against her inner walls, hitting much deeper than his fingers had, and eventually pushed her over the edge again. As her walls pulsed around him he came undone inside her, and he buried his face in her neck, as he let out a deep groan. 

Holding onto their bliss and each other, they stayed still on the desk until their senses fully returned. With a sigh and a smile, Sasha broke the silence. “Can I borrow your shower?”


	5. Let The Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of information, hold on to the right pieces! Sasha and Thomas are challenged in keeping it together as they, very literally, begin their new lives. Can they find a middle point to meet on? Also, Michael is introduced amongst others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID IT. I got another chapter done... this has been giving me trouble, and I've worked on many different parts of the story sporadically, in an attempt to postpone writing this chapter. Feedback is always welcome and much appreciated!

Thomas and Sasha were sitting in the cafeteria that took up most of the old renovated hangar. Steel beams and glass windows made up most of the structure and gave the big hall a sci-fi-like atmosphere, making their casual clothes feel almost out of place among the white tables and matching chairs - light grey space-scrubs would have been more fitting in the remote facility. Yet, they fit in perfectly amongst the other operatives scattered around the hall, working or chatting in low voices. 

The ‘new couple’ were catching up on their two years of marriage, that had been spun from thin air by the people in the logistics division. One after the other, Sasha and Thomas took turns testing their knowledge of Tammy and William. 

“Wedding venue?” 

“The Principal Edinburgh Hotel.” When Sasha nodded her head approvingly, Thomas continued asking. “How many guests?” 

“Around twenty, so we held the reception in the Library,” she answered swiftly. “Why so few guests?” 

Thomas took a deep breath and began the explanation. “We preferred an intimate wedding, and with many of your friends being scattered all over the world, it was easiest just to have the closest friends and family present. Why do you have so many far-away acquaintances?” 

Like so, they went over every nitpicky detail Tammy and William would have had years to slowly and naturally learn. How Tammy’s parents’ work had brought her to all corners of the earth, and how William ended up working in finance, thanks to the piggy bank his grandpa gave him for his seventh birthday. How Tammy rebelled against her parents’ pioneering nature and decided to settle down in Edinburgh, quickly after completing her scholarship at the Berlin University of the Arts. Every little detail of the years-long lives that had been built from nothing a few months earlier. 

“They sure are thorough,” Sasha remarked as she looked over the files on the table in front of her. Nothing was left for her and Thomas to doubt, in case someone asked about ‘their’ lives. Their alibis were set and ready to go for when Sasha officially moved in to assist Thomas. “Apparently, they even have a German operative ready as my ex in case anyone decides to track him down.” She gave a small laugh, barely a scoffing exhale, but Thomas found it cute. Her otherwise action-forward attitude broken by amusement.

“Oh, how I hated being an extra…” he mused at the memory of his early days with the SIS. “Sitting around proofreading files and contracts, just waiting for a field mission. It was years before I was even considered to be a main operative. You’re what, twenty-six? And you’ve already been the star of the show three times?” 

Now she right out smiled. “Things work differently in Russia. I graduated Utonchelovek as an Elite. We’re sent directly into the field.” Her answer was precise and she turned her focus back to the files between them, but Thomas was curious and continued. 

“Tell me more about Utonchelovek!” he pleaded with excitement in his eyes, and Sasha looked at him nervously. 

“You don’t need to know about me - you need to know about Tammy and William.”

Thomas persisted. “Come on, there’s not a thing on those files we haven’t read… please, tell me about Russia?” In a moment, he reminded her of her brother. How he would beg for stories when he was bedridden. Sasha gave in to his light blue summer-eyes and told him with a happy sigh about, what to her was an every day, but to him was a fairy tale. 

“Utonchelovek trains elite agents from Eastern European countries. Every day from our admission we were taught and trained in all kinds of subjects and disciplines. After two years, the lowest performing students are picked from the group, and they go on to follow a different programme. They’re called Second Row. After another two years, it's the same process. They split the worst from the best - the First Row from the Elite. Another two years, and we graduate.” Sasha spoke matter of factly without actually looking at Thomas. She had no interest in seeing the most likely horrified face most people sported when hearing about the blunt class division of human beings and their skills. 

But Thomas just listened. He didn’t let anything on other than his curiosity. “What is the difference between the programmes?” 

Sasha looked up at him with wonder at his continued interest before continuing. “Uh, Second Row is the least intensive programme. They’re mostly tutored in law and political science - less physical refinement. First Row is harder, and in the Elite Programme, you learn how to do almost everything. They turn us into chameleons.” 

“Is that where you learnt to dance?” Thomas’ curiosity had no end. 

“Yes, investment in the arts begins in the third year.” She gave that little scoff-smile-exhale thing again while looking down. “I actually kinda failed my ballet class. I was bottom of the class…” 

“Would you have been sent to First Row then?” Thomas’ eyes were full of dread and concern, brows drawn together like her brothers’ were when she told him the story of Snow-White and Rose-Red, and the wicked dwarf told the kind bear to eat the girls. ‘Did he fail them?’. Sasha could see his bright blue eyes in Thomas’. 

After a long pause, she finally answered. “As students move higher up, their education gets tailored closer to their individual skill sets. I excelled in other disciplines.” 

“Like what?” he persisted. 

That was enough. She knew her lines and when people crossed them, and how Thomas’ questions would soon bring him too far. “How were you trained?” She tried to change the subject. 

“It’s not as interesting. Graduated university with a law degree, got a job here as a lawyer at first, and worked my way up to become a field agent.” He quickly skipped ahead, desperate to know more about the school. “Why were you allowed to move to the Elite if you didn’t pass ballet?” As he finished his enthusiastic sentence, cold washed over Sasha’s face and down his back, and she rose and walked away. 

 

The water enveloped her, as she jumped head first from the diving board and let the pool swallow her whole. Kicking her legs, she took lap after lap, trying to escape and wash off her anger. Stopping at the edge of the pool, she let herself breathe before taking another set of rounds. She was not surprised to see Thomas sitting on a bench with an apologetic look on his face. Who would have thought the unsettled man had had the confidence and strength to dominate her mere hours earlier? Nervously, he rose and walked to the edge to talk to her, but she swiftly turned back into the water and took another round. Sticking her head up, she saw he was still waiting for a chance to apologize, so she took yet another lap to prepare herself. Once again, she let herself rest against the tiles, and before Thomas could say anything, she spoke. 

“I’m not good with apologies, so please save it, and just leave me be until I calm down.” 

She dove back under and kept swimming, thinking Thomas would go away, but after five more laps, he was still there, waiting for a chance to speak. She gave it to him. 

“What?” 

He looked collected again as he spoke in a soft voice. “I don’t think it’s healthy to swim instead of resolve.” 

She rolled her eyes and went back under in protest, and when she swam back, Thomas had an amused smile on his face. Sasha stayed low in the water as if she was trying to hide in it - not the best hiding spot given its see-through nature. 

“Will you let me apologize, and then come have lunch with me? You must be exhausted by now.” 

She was silent in the water, but she nodded her head yes. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you by asking questions, and in hindsight, I realize you gave me the chance to stop before I went too far. I should have taken it, and I apologize for my mistake.” How long had it taken him to craft that statement? 

Sasha sank deeper into the water, if possible, so her nose was just above the surface so she could breathe. Her full hair was a deep chestnut brown in the water, that also weighed down and took out the slight waves she naturally had. She was quiet, and so was Thomas. He didn’t ask for her forgiveness or acceptance, nor did he demand a reaction. He just wanted her to know. 

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke again. “I hear they’re serving tenderloin today - not exactly filet mignon, but quite the treat compared to the usual lunch, and right up your alley, right? We got a new head chef just last week.” She understood his request for her to join him for a meal, nodded and pulled herself out of the water, leaving her emotional waste in it. 

 

\----------

 

The white ceiling above Tammy and Williams bed greeted Sasha when she woke up the first morning in the new house. Thomas had gone to sleep next to her the night before, after spending the better half of their Sunday afternoon helping Tammy unpack and organize the very last of their belongings, that she had brought along for the final part of their move. But now he was nowhere to be seen and Tammy rose from the bed to go looking for her husband. Walking down the stairs and through their foyer in her colourful silk dressing gown, she heard him humming in the kitchen. She entered and saw him standing against the counter in a dark grey suit, tapping his fingers on the tabletop impatiently as he sipped his coffee. 

“Good morning, Love,” he said, his voice still slightly morning-gravely, and opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug. Sasha hesitated in the doorway, but after a quick note to herself, she accepted his warm embrace. ‘What the hell, they were practically married after all’. She rested her heavy forehead against his shoulder, and he let his free hand brush slowly over her back. 

After a moment of breathing in the warm scent of his cologne, with hints of shower-fresh skin underneath, she looked up and asked him. “Are you ready?”

He shrugged. “Well, I had a crash course in financial management just after Christmas, so I guess I am?” Thomas said, mostly to calm his own nerves. Sasha was about to correct him for mentioning himself and his preparations with the SIS, but decided to let it slide. Yet, Thomas’ keen eyes noticed the slight change in her demeanour. “What’s wrong?” 

She sighed. It was not her intention to scold him, but how else could she say it? Cautiously, she gave it a go. “We should commit fully to Tammy and William. There’s no use in us risking anything by being out of character and mentioning our affiliation with the SIS.” 

“I know, but we’re not at risk right now.” His comment was monotone and even like Sasha’s. 

“We just need to transition soon - our house is a safe space for now, but it might change soon.”

“Why so?” he challenged. 

“Come on, a company like Arbor Pharma hiring an almost complete stranger is a risky move. A background check can only tell them if you’re an addict or cheated on your finals, but spying on you will make them know if you’re spying on them. I give it two weeks tops before there are microphones in every outlet here.” She explained her concern as he held her close. Eyes would see Tammy and William, but ears would hear Sasha and Thomas. 

He chuckled and kissed her temple sweetly as William would. “Convincing enough?” When she smiled and shook her head, he leaned in to kiss her lips, delighted to feel her reciprocate. Her soft full lips against his smooth, thin ones, sucking and nibbling lazily, sending warmth through their bodies, waking them up and lulling them to rest, all at once. He pulled back and rose an elegant brow jokingly and asked. “Is that better?” 

She chuckled and pulled him closer again by the lapel of his jacket. “Much better.” 

“Lovely - if I had to prove it further to you now, I would be late for work,” he winked and let her roll her eyes before pulling him in for another kiss. She let him go and ushered him to the front door. 

“We can’t have that! Off you go,” she smiled and watched as he walked to the carport, entered the Jaguar, and drove off to his first day in the shark tank that was Arbor Pharma. 

 

He flashed his badge to the security guard minding the gate to the underground parking lots and found his designated spot, close to the elevator that took him to the main lobby of the building, where he was greeted by a familiar face - Jacob Mason, Michael’s right-hand man, who had led his interview a month earlier in Michael’s absence. 

“Ah, Gardner!” the short Scot called and walked over to shake William’s hand. “Good to see you!” After some quick pleasantries, he began showing William around while rambling on about various details. “-so good someone capable was available on such short notice - Wilkens passing was quite the shock-” they took a detour through a well-lit office full of cubicles, spanning an entire floor. “- and all your documents and badges have been fixed, Michael has your keys. By the way, it’s a good thing you shaved - I know you’re not a doctor, but when representing a pharmaceuticals company, being clean shaven just looks better,” he noted through his heavy accent as they stepped out of the elevator, that brought them to the top floor, into a foyer, from where one could move on through matt glass doors to the executives offices. The room was decorated with houseplants of all sizes, standing on every surface - windowsills, the coffee table in the waiting area, bigger pots on the floor, and on the secretary’s desk. 

“William, this is Lin, our secretary,” Jacob introduced and waited patiently while William shook the short woman’s hand and she assured him of her assistance with anything he might need. With small nods, he was introduced to the two bodyguards standing stoically by the wall, as if trying to both maintain a forward threatening demeanour and to disappear from sight completely. Jacob quickly noted which door let to which office and guided William to his new study. 

Cardboard boxes overflowing with folders and files were scattered over the otherwise clean floor and the modern desk in the middle of the big room was covered in loose documents. A tall man stood by the table and looked over the papers in search of something he didn’t seem to know what was himself. His slightly loosened tie and wrinkled shirt revealed the exhaustion his neutral face didn’t show. Only his tense, chiselled jaw let William know he was in deep thoughts, but he broke himself away from them when he felt the presence of people in the room with him. He looked up and locked his lightning blue eyes with William, who instantly recognized his new boss; The man was Michael Falkbaum. 

Whatever Thomas had imagined meeting Michael for the first time would be like, it sure wasn’t this. Of course, expecting the alleged crime lord to sit in a padded leather chair, placidly nursing a drink and petting a ferret, would be a far stretch of an assumption, but seeing his boss this exhausted and on edge, was a surprise. 

Michael’s face lit up and he pulled himself away from the desk to shake William’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Gardner,” he began with a professional, if a little groggy, smile. Realizing the state of his appearance and the room he was in, he quickly apologized. “Please, excuse the-” Suddenly not knowing what he was apologizing for, his clothes or the mess, he settled for gesturing lazily around himself, hoping William would understand. “Wilkens passing has been a bit of a shock, not to mention inconvenience to the company. Clearing his office out was a harder task than we thought.” He shot Jacob a joking smile. 

“The man was not exactly fond of electronics,” the shorter man explained William. “But he did his job without them - magnificently one might add. The only problem was his death. Now, we’re the ones left to sort out the system only Peter himself seemed to understand.” He gestured to the countless folders. 

Respectful silence took up the space between trash bags and the three men. Michael pulled his glance away from the empty spot he had been staring at and turned back to William. “Anyway, it’s great to have you on board. My apologies for missing the interview, but I’m sure Mason took good care of it. Again, we’ve been so busy lately, so your enthusiasm and flexibility are much appreciated.” 

After William politely thanked Michael for the great opportunity, Jacob urged them to get on with the day. “Well, if that’s all for now, I’ll take Garnder to my office, and we’ll take a look at the fexofenadine labellings and shipments.” His face waited for his coworkers' responses with an open expression. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” sighed Michael and looked around the room. “Then I’ll get on in here, scan the last documents and… try to get them in order.” He looked up and gave a strained smile before returning to his messy task, as Jacob and William headed out of the room. 

“He prefers to do it himself to keep an overview of it all,” Jacob settled Williams worry as to if they should help out their boss. “Besides, it would be cruel to throw you straight into Wilkens’ tangled systems. Easing you in with some sales reports is probably for the best,” he winked and opened his laptop, and William followed suit. 

A couple of hours later, a knock on the door brought the men out of their bubble of concentration. Michael was standing in the doorway, hair smoothed back and his tie tied up again. “All done - Wilkens’ office is officially no longer Wilkens. It’s Gardner’s,” he said with a proud smile, showcasing his well-cared-for teeth. “Care to join me for lunch?”

 

“Tammy, I’m home!” His voice carried softly through the house and caught Tammy’s attention. 

“In my studio!” she called back to let him know of her whereabouts. William made his way through the living room to the adjacent office that had been turned into an atelier. Sketchbooks crowded the table, some of them open with drawings of ravens matching the two on the canvas on the easel in front of Tammy. She moved softly in harmony to the lo-fi beats playing from her laptop in the background, and gently brushed on the greenish black of the ravens' feathers, contrasting the fragile pastels of the background. A stunning realism dwelled in the painting. 

“I had no idea you could paint like this,” he said with a stunned expression Tammy only heard. She was too concentrated to look away from her creation. 

“Yes you did, considering we’ve been married for two years,” she noted before realising her rudeness. Trying to make up for it, she turned around and continued. “But thank you.” 

Thomas sighed. “You know, you’re not doing a whole lot for this illusion to be believable either when you scold me like that all the time.” 

‘Well, I wouldn’t have to if you just committed!’ Thankfully, she caught the thought before she uttered it - not that would be able to penetrate the painfully thick atmosphere anyway. She relaxed her tensed shoulders and asked softly. “Was there something you wanted?” But Thomas just sighed and walked away, blue eyes tired and disappointed, leaving Sasha in a mess of paint and guilt. She cleaned up her brushes and trekked to the kitchen in hopes of finding Thomas. 

His jacket and tie were draped over the back of a chair, and his back was turned towards Sasha. He was cutting something, but she couldn't see what. She was unsure if he hadn’t noticed her stop in the doorway, or if he was ignoring her, but she forced herself to overcome her hesitation and walked up behind him, placing her forehead softly on his back, hiding. 

“I’m… sorry,” she tried, but Thomas was cold. 

“It’s too bad we don’t have a pool so you’re forced to apologize, huh?” His movements were precisely balanced as he julienned carrots and leeks and moved to throw them into the wok he had heated up, leaving Sasha behind, stuck to the ground beneath her. The heat from the pan came over him like a wave of fire, tearing down his defences and softened him up, and he turned around and saw Sasha’s genuine and guilty face. Or was it shame in her cheeks? Her eyes were stuck to the floor like her feet and her face was clearly trying to remain still and not reveal that emotion Thomas couldn’t put his finger on. 

“I’ll do better as Tammy.” Her voice was tight. She could feel Thomas’ eyes dwell on her - with pity? She heard him sigh and walk, and saw his feet and long legs appear on the floor in front of hers. To her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, one broad hand supporting the middle of her back, the other resting at the nape of her neck. 

“I’ll do better as William.” He pulled back and stared into her eyes, his shallow blue pools reaching deep into her honey-brown abysses. “Starting now - I think the raven painting is one of your best works yet!” A cheeky smile spread across his face and forced the wrinkles around his eyes to scrunch up in joy. 

She gave a half-laugh, but her smile told William she meant it wholeheartedly. “Thank you. What are we having?” They set the table and plated up their sesame stir-fry, their small domestic conversation filling the room along with the smell of mushrooms and leeks. 

“I had lunch with Michael and Jacob.” 

“First name basis already?” Tammy interrupted before taking her last mouthful of vegetables. 

“Yes - you better find your prettiest dress in that closet of yours. We’ve been invited to a garden party on Friday,” he said with a smile and began cleaning off the table. They went around the kitchen, doing the dishes and cleaning up, hands occasionally sneaking lingering touches from one another. Noticing the broad smile on Tammy’s face, William drew her in for a kiss. “What’s on your mind, darling? What has you smiling like that?”

She wrapped her hands around his neck and parted her lips with a suggestive and hungry look in her eyes. “A certain duffle bag I came across in the back of your closet…” 

“Hmmm,” he mused, “and why would my sweet girl be snooping around like so?” His hands were on her hips, holding her close to him. 

“I just _had_ to see if you brought that sweet toy from last week.” Her voice was moany and soft which had the desired effect; William pressed her pelvis closer to his, and she could feel his growing erection. 

“With such a beautiful woman in the house, I couldn’t possibly live without also having that bag with me as well.” He winked and leaned down to kiss her. Soft, smooth lips pressing against each other, and his tongue slightly teasing hers. He trailed away from her mouth and murmured in her ear. “Anything in particular that caught your attention?” 

She was kissing along his jaw and neck slowly. “Hmmm, a certain pair of leather cuffs did wake my imagination…” 

“Maybe I should chain you up? Make sure you don’t go wandering around places that don't concern you…” He pulled back and gave her a cheeky grin. 

She moved her face back close to his, flashing her femme-fatale smile, and breathed “catch me,” then turned and sprinted for the stairs. 

It took him a second to realise what happened, but when it donned on him, predatory shadows covered his eyes and he chased the swift girl, reaching the bottom of the stairs when she reached the top. 

Laughing, she got to the bedroom, only to see William right behind her with a smooth grin on his face. Still running, he reached out to grab her, only for her to swiftly dodge him and run towards the ensuite bathroom and walk-in closets, but even taking a shortcut over the bed was no match for William’s long legs and he effectively trapped her against the door to his wardrobe. Legs spread at shoulder width and an arm on either side of Tammy’s body, his smile became triumphant. 

“Only get in fights you know you can win, darling. Now I’ve got you cornered” he taunted, expecting to wipe her cocky expression off her face, but for some reason her attitude became just the more arrogant. 

“Yes, cornered - against a door.” Her smile and eyes grew confidently and provokingly, and in one swift motion, she pushed down the door handle and dashed backwards, out of William’s reach, into the closet. The stunned look she expected to see on his face again was nowhere to be seen, as he stood still in the door frame with a superior expression. 

“The door to _my_ closet, darling…” and with one long stride, he truly cornered her. He casually closed the door behind him, and even in the dim light, he could see the arrogance melt off her face. His voice was sharp and low as he instructed her, “Now, little girl, I suggest you find those cuffs you mentioned and stop playing around.” 

Giving in to his freshly-won authority, she dug out the duffle bag with a blush spreading across her face, found the leather padded cuffs and returned them to her husband, who picked them from her hands and chained up one wrist. With a hand on the small of her back, he lead her back out to their bedroom and ordered her to lie back on the bed. “Hands above your head, darling,” he spoke softly, and when she obeyed, he brought the handcuffs around the headboard and locked her free wrist up with it’s already chained twin. “Such a sweet girl for me,” he mused at her obedience as he went to pull off her expensive paper bag trousers, leaving her soft toned legs bare. 

Moving his hands to work on her shirt, he unbuttoned it and revealed her bare breasts. She was trembling ever so slightly in the spring-cool room, and her nipples were hard, either from the cold or her rising arousal. He put his warm hands against her soft skin, sending heat through her body, as he began a journey of wet kisses along her neck, collarbone, and down towards her chest. She pulled on her restraints, desperately wanting to put her hands in his soft hair and guide him towards her nipples. Luckily, he found his way there himself, toying one pink peak with his lips and tongue, flicking and sucking. Even employing his teeth, he held the nub and bit down slowly, enjoying her squirms and deep moan. When her groans grew wimpy, he released her sore nipple and continued his journey downwards, stopping when he reached the waistband of her soft lace panties. Slowly, he sat back and drew them off, pondering. How could the lack of such a tiny piece of cloth make her infinitely more nude under his gaze? 

His touch was electric and, along with the light brush of the fabric, sending sparks through her skin every time he grazed Tammy’s legs. She watched his infuriatingly handsome face, as he admired her toned legs with a grace as if he was balming her skin - one could argue he was, as he brushed his hands back up her legs again. Settling himself between them, he resumed kissing her inner thighs and moved to her centre, already damp. Spreading her legs and lips further, he looked up at her face, stained with urging, before taking his first taste of her delicious kitty. Moaning into her soft flesh, he felt his cock beginning to strain against the fabric of his pants, and with a groan he pulled himself away from her to relieve the tension and took of his pants and freed his cock from his boxers. 

“Your shirt too!” Tammy begged, wanting to feel his chest against hers. 

“Shh, darling,” he hushed, but nevertheless he granted her wish and swiftly removed his shirt as he moved to hover over her again. “I’m sure you noticed the gags in the bag on your little adventure, and unless you want me to get one for you, I’d suggest you keep quiet.” His voice was menacing as he purred the threat into her neck, just under her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Once she nodded her head yes in agreement, he moved one hand down to her centre, testing the waters. Slowly pressing to fingers into her slick channel, he hummed approvingly at the silent girl beneath him. “So wet for me, darling.” Pulling his fingers out and stroking her clit with his thumb, he placed the head of his cock against her entrance and slowly pushed himself in to the hilt, stretching her ever so slightly. 

Shivering and moaning beneath him, she pulled on her restraints again, wanting to touch him back, but to no avail. She settled for wrapping her legs around him, urging the rhythm William picked up. The cool brushes of air and the warmth of Williams hands sent shivers through her body, all rushing towards her lower abdomen and pooling together in her ever flexing and relaxing muscles surrounding her core, making a home for her orgasm to grow. The steady stretch of her legs and her slit brought her closer and closer to her climax, and as William slowed down and angled himself to brush against her g-spot, she gave in to her body and let the tidal wave of ecstasy wash over her and leave her suddenly sore and tired muscles in restful bliss. She hardly noticed Williams deeply groaned “Tammy…” in her euphoric state, as he came undone with her. 

After a few minutes of rest, he pulled himself together with a sigh and pulled back from his deliciously warm wife to untie her hands. Tammy rubbed her wrists slightly, making sure she wasn’t hurt, but William was with her the very same moment - although he knew himself to always be careful with whatever toys he played with, he found it best to check once too many than one too little. Softly kissing her undamaged wrists, he moved her to lay beside him as the little spoon. And after a short moment of internal struggle, Sasha gave in to his warm embrace and Tammy fell asleep curled up next to her husband.


	6. Your Prettiest Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In my defence, William _did_ tell Tammy to find her prettiest dress...

Tammy’s arms were overflowing with lilacs as she strolled home from her walk; A long trip up and down the farmers market close by their new home, in the spring sun, with many bench-breaks well fit for people watching and sketching. Her pencils had worn quickly as she doodled the people she saw; an old lady, in particular, caught her eye, her hunched back revealing her age, but her bright coloured coat and hat and spring filled eyes ignored the signs of ageing, as she lively spoke with the vendors of every booth she visited. Tammy watched carefully as the lady filled her basket with jars of honey, cheese, fresh bread and vegetables, as she discreetly followed her down the plaza, filling page after page with the immortalisation of the scene playing out before her curious eyes. After staring down her sketchbook and scribbling shadows into the scene, she looked up and saw the woman was gone. 

She pulled her focus back to her errands, strolling back and forth once more, picking out home-churned butter and whatever else her uplifted mood encouraged her to buy, and when she came across a small flower booth blooming with common lilacs of all colours, her heart jumped. 

“Lilacs already?” she asked with childlike big eyes looking at the woman behind the table. 

“Yes, yes they’re quite early this spring,” the older woman said in a light tone, as she watched a fond smile spread across the young woman’s face. “You like lilacs?” 

Tammy looked up at her. “Yes, in fact, I had lilacs at my wedding.” 

“Oh, how lovely!” the woman was beaming. “I had lilacs and lavenders at mine! I’ll tell you what, why don’t I give you a discount, and you take a bouquet home to your darling,” she insisted with a kind smile and Tammy took out her purse. 

“Actually, I was thinking a bit more than one!”

 

When William returned home that afternoon, the slight smell of flowers greeted him. On the doorstep were three little lilac buds and a whole trail of them continued on the other side of the door. 

“Tammy?” he called out softly, but no answer came. He followed the trail up the stairs and towards their bedroom, from where the sound of a light, plucking violin flew, accompanied by a cello, piano and soft-voiced vocalist. He recognised the tune as one from one of Tammy’s countless CDs with Agnes Obel and Alela Diane. Softly, he pushed the door open and spoke, “people usually leave out rose petals,” but quickly stopped in his tracks. 

Tammy was sitting by her vanity, elegantly adjusting a diamond earring visible to William, thanks to the romantic updo her hair was tucked away in. Like a still photo, she sat quietly, as if she didn’t hear him come in. Her back was straight, if arched back just slightly, giving lift to her breasts and width to her hips. He could see the thin straps of the pure white dress through the cap-sleeved lace blouse she wore. Moving up behind her, he could see the deep plunging neckline of the dress in the mirror, her skin still modestly covered by the teasing lace of the overshirt. The dress itself was summerly - almost like a sundress. It fit her slim figure closely down to her hips where it flared out softly to a full ankle-length skirt, draping lightly over her legs like a chiton. The peaked cups of the bodice ended in thin straps, wrapping over her shoulders to the low back of the dress, all adding to the warm and greek ambience filling the scene, along with countless lilacs in vases on every surface in the room, matching the purple silk flower buds in the golden flower crown resting on top of her head. William felt his cock swell at the beautiful view, bringing him back to their wedding day.

“I see you have gone snooping in your own closet today,” he purred into her neck and put his hands on her hips. 

“You told me to find my prettiest dress,” she almost moaned as he kissed along her neck. 

“This is no doubt your prettiest, but wearing it on Friday would be rude… You would make quite a few girls jealous I think…” He took a seat on the padded puff next to Tammy and wrapped his arms properly around her waist. 

“Well, I’ll be there with you, so they will be jealous of me anyway,” said she and put her hands over his, lightly stroking his wedding ring. “Kiss the bride?” she asked with a slight chuckle and an elegantly arched brow. 

He rose and pulled her up to stand with him, her dress flowing to find new rest after the shift of gravity. Two fingers under her chin, he brought her close and placed a soft kiss on her lips, as his other hand traced around her middle and up her back. Resting his head to hers, he asked in a velvet voice, “can I give them a reason to be jealous of you?” 

“As many as you like,” she whispered in his ear as his nose trailed along her jaw and neck, trying to find the best spot to kiss and nuzzle. 

“Turn around for me, please.” It was a barely audible plea that escaped his lips and flew through the fragile scene. Demurely, she turned around and let him undo the row of buttons following her spine and gently push off the lace blouse. His hands trailed over her arms as she neatly folded the shirt and went to put it on her vanity, his fingers already longing for her soft skin the moment she was out of his reach. He followed behind her fairy light steps, at once bound by her beauty and stalking her like prey. He turned her to face him, her back against the wall, his face suddenly cast in shadow, making his soft stare feral, as he brought his fingers to her face carefully, as if fearing to break a porcelain doll. 

Electric currents matching his sparkling blue eyes flowed from his hands into Tammy’s skin. She saw a moment of soft hesitation flash over his face before a genuinely happy grin took its place, and he leaned in to kiss her. One hand found its way to the back of her head, where it softly protected her as his lips pushed her back against the wall. Fighting her slightly into submission, he gained control of her and the kiss, biting her lips and teasing her with a deep groan, the humming vibrations going straight to her core and making her whimper a moan. Sliding her hands over his hard, toned chest, she pushed his dark blue jacket off his shoulders, a silent begging that he would take it off completely. Quickly, he shuffled it off and threw it on the puff, before turning his focus back to his bride. 

He had moved back in close and was shuffling her skirt upwards, and Tammy saw her chance. She put her hand on the bulge in his trousers, grinding him through the fabric. 

Immediately, he stopped his fiddling with the many yards of white fabric, and with a deep groan, he buried his face in her neck, one fist balled up and pressed against the wall on the other side of her head. 

“Someone’s eager, huh?” she teased with a triumphant smile he didn’t see. She could feel him swelling under her hands repeated grinding, and his heavy breath on her neck. Slowly, she undid his belt and rose her skirt the last bit of the way. Rubbing him harder, she whispered, “come closer.” 

His feral demeanour was back as he grabbed one of her long legs, hoisted it up and supported her pelvis on his. He knew he pressed right against her clit from the high pitched moan that escaped her lips - and the fact that she apparently had decided against wearing underwear. “Are you suggesting _I’m_ the one who’s eager? I, for one, opted not to go commando, and yet, after pressing against your delightfully warm kitty for mere seconds, you’re already soaking me.” His voice was raspy and deep as he corrected the girl, thrusting his hips slightly to drive his point home. 

Growing more desperate, she threw her head back against the wall and groaned. “Just fuck me already, William.” 

“Ah-ah-ah! What’s the magic word?” he rasped chastising in her ear, as he pinched one nipple harshly through the fabric covering it. 

“Please! Please, sir, fuck me,” she begged, big eyes turned back to him. 

He chuckled. “I guess I can’t say no to such a sweet little thing,” his London accent filled her ears with the small whisper, as he shuffled his pants and boxers just far enough down to be able to surrender to her plea. Hoisting her leg higher up, he made way for himself to push into her slick channel and fill her up. 

She felt him push her upwards and rose to her tiptoes on her still grounded foot, as he dragged along her insides. One hand was on her hip, undoubtedly digging bruises into her tender skin, as he held her in place. He rolled his hips into hers, and with every thrust, he hit a new spot inside her. Her moans grew shorter and more desperate in unison with his rapid breathing, brushing warmth against her bare neck. William’s free hand came to cover her breast, pressing and massaging. “Look at me,” he begged in a steady whisper, and Tammy batted her eyes open. “I want to see your eyes when you come undone for me.” 

With every push into her core, he pushed her closer to the edge. The scent of sweat and lilacs, the brush of soft chiffon and his hands on her skin and his eyes - god, his eyes! At once so comforting and deeply upsetting. The animalistic need to see him come apart in front of her eyes contradicted her nurturing wish to keep the azure pools safe. Keep him safe. - it all pushed against her buttons, overloading her with sensations, and with the flick of a switch - or his thumb on her clit - she gave into insanity and let the ecstasy rush through her veins. William’s hand moved to the wall beside her to steady himself, as he joined her on the bed of roses, stealing one last raspy kiss from her trembling lips. 

 

The smell of lilacs was drowned in the lavender scent of Tammy’s shower gel, as William washed her in the shower. Standing quietly together, they rinsed off each other's last trace of orgasms, before going downstairs to fix a quick dinner together. 

“I guess we’re properly married now,” Sasha thought out loud as she placed a bowl of hummus on the dining table, next to a plate of vegetable sticks. She didn’t mind marriage much anymore - at least not with him. Stiffening in her sundress, she realised she said it out loud. But Thomas didn’t seem to mind. 

“Well, not properly,” he began. “I never even proposed to you. Or told you my vows.” He put down a carafe of water and joined Sasha at the table. 

“Do you want to?” she challenged with a high brow and a snappy bite of celery. 

He chuckled and gave in. “I guess so,” he said and rose, just to kneel again. Prying off her wedding band, along with his own, he took her hand in his. Her name almost escaped his lips, but in the last second, he caught and corrected himself. ‘Commit!’

“Tammy Dav-”

“No!” Sasha cut him off, suddenly distressed and disappointed. Thomas looked up at her confused. “I - I mean, I thought you…” She hid her face in her hands. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes and voice. 

“I -” she hesitated, “I let myself think… That you were proposing to me.” Her voice was barely a whisper. What was this sudden softness? And why was she stubbornly trying to push down those cynical thoughts? Why were tears pressing against the back of her eyes after he did exactly what she told him to the day before?! ‘Commit!’ she reminded herself. Her hands seemed glued to her face, with humiliation and fear working like a two-part epoxy. What would Thomas think? What would Thomas _do_? A million thoughts crowded her mind in under a second, but just as quickly as they appeared, they melted away again. Thomas laughed. 

He laughed a loud, heartfelt laughter that echoed through the bright room and dissolved the sticky substance holding Sasha’s hands in place. 

She peeked through her fingers and saw Thomas dry his eyes. He sighed to shake the last bits of amusement off him and took her hands again. 

Big eyes and a soft smile comforted her fears, as he began again. “Sasha, will you take my hand, in a kind of marriage?” he asked. 

She nodded with a big, humoured smile and said, “Yes, Thomas,” and let him slide on the beautiful ring. Three diamonds were aligned with the biggest in the middle, on a shiny platinum band. Only now she realised its simple beauty, as it refracted the light of the room, sparkling like little stars on her finger. 

Setting it securely on her finger, he looked at her and began in a velvet voice; “With this ring, I promise to love and honour you as my wife… to support and cherish you… Know, that this life I share with you, I do not see as mine, but as ours. I vow to stand by your side, no matter what hardship we endure.” 

Sasha picked up his highly polished ring and returned his soft favour. She thought for a moment about what to say before sliding it back on his long, lean finger. “With this ring, I swear to protect our bond. I swear to…” she stuttered. “... nurture the love you give me.” She let go of the sigh she didn’t know she held in and looked in Thomas’ eyes - deep and blue as her brother’s, with a genuine and soft smile. “I swear to preserve us and keep us safe.”

His smile widened even further, if that was possible, and he stood and poured Sasha and himself a glass of water. Sitting down across from her, he held his up as if to toast. “To us,” he said with a joking grin, glad to see her mirror him. 

“To us!” she laughed, and they clinked their glasses, both mockingly and with genuine excitement. 

“I never thought I would make that kind of promise,” he mused over a bite of carrot. “Much less to another operative.” 

“Well, we are in this for the long haul,” she argued in support. “I have a feeling this will take long… as in really long,” she stressed ‘really’ to emphasize, before continuing with a wink, “but at the same time, I have a feeling it won’t be too bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is curious, or as much of a lover of wedding dresses as me, here's a link to the blouse that really got my creative juices going :)  
> https://ivy-oak.com/collections/bridal/products/buttoned-bridal-top-snow-white-i110219s2029-w02


	7. A Magnificent Garden Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New friends, architecture, microphones and verifications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was weird to write, but I was super curious to know if it would work out to do it this way... It got so difficult and gave me my doubts, but here goes nothing. I hope you enjoy!

“So, this is it.” Sasha’s soft voice carried through the car over it’s purring. 

“Hm?” William looked over at her with a face that clearly said ‘this is what?’

“The last time it’s just Sasha and Thomas,” she explained. “There’ll be listening devices everywhere when we get home, I bet.” Her sundress matched her chuckle in lightness, and though the didn’t hide her small laughter, her otherwise bare shoulders were covered by a jacket just warm enough to keep her comfortable in the spring night. 

“Well, I guess the car will be our last spot for privacy,” Thomas agreed reluctantly, some childish part of him wanting not to say it as if it wouldn't come true. “If we remove the microphones they’ll know we found them out,” he stated the obvious. 

“It’s funny,” she began, “how we see houses as safe spaces - we lock our doors and suddenly we’re safe. As if someone actually out to get you is going to give up because of a lock. They are only illusions…” 

“Sometimes, an illusion is enough to keep you safe and sane.” The conversation died away as they left themselves behind and embraced the Gardners - not much of a difference, really, just a bride more blushy and a husband deeper in love. 

Stepping out of the car after the almost unnecessary ride to Michael’s residence a few streets away, William laid his hand on Tammy’s back. “Are you warm enough?” he asked tenderly, and she answered with a nod. Other people were stepping out of ridiculously expensive cars and making their way to the yard, ushered by their generous host after a hearty welcome. 

“William, so good to see you,” said Michael, a huge grin spanning his face as he shook William’s hand before turning his attention to Tammy. “And you must be Mrs Gardner? A pleasure to finally meet you,” he flashed a charismatic smile and offered his hand, and to her surprise, he didn’t shake hers when she mirrored his action but instead kissed her knuckles.

Laughing a little at his sweet gesture, she answered, “please, just call me Tammy. And the pleasure is all mine!” Finishing the exchange of pleasantries, Michael urged them into the yard to join the remainder of the party. Tammy grabbed a glass of champagne, elegantly offered to her by a slender and discreet waiter before William introduced her to various business partners. 

“You must have had such a busy week!” Tammy chattered politely in the small group of William’s new associates, with his hand still on her back, when a voice behind her answered. 

“I hope I haven’t kept him away from you,” it came smoothly from Michael’s lips, slight concern hidden under the cover of a pleasantry. “But I’m afraid after recent events the board and executive managing have been slightly short-staffed. Things should go back to normal soon,” he said, keeping his eyes on Tammy’s face. She was a rather striking woman; soft, full lips - quite biteable, he was sure. Silky smooth and deeply brown hair… He pulled himself from the thoughts of how soft it would feel between his fingers. She was married! 

“Please, don’t worry! I’m sure he’s at much more use at the company than he would be at home - nothing is really left to be done around there anymore,” she smiled kindly as she assured Michael he didn’t interfere with her and William’s relationship. 

A short blonde woman chimed in and pulled Tammy away from the small group - Maggie Hall, the wife of Roger Hall, both of who Tammy had been introduced to minutes ago. “Oh yes, how are you settling in?” she asked with great enthusiasm as she took Tammy by the arm, clearly planning on a ladies talk. 

“Quite well so far! We’re getting familiar with the neighbourhood and such,” Tammy chatted as Maggie lead her around the pretty garden. Rose bushes and flowerbeds broke up the yard into smaller sections, allowing for more or less privacy as desired. After a few rounds about the hedges, Tammy realised Maggie was looking for something. She wasn’t left to worry about what for long, since Maggie laid her eyes on her goal. 

“Janet!” She called to a woman with her back turned. A long thick braid of black hair fell to around her waist, creating a startling contrast to the white dress shirt she was wearing. She turned away from her conversation partner, an older man with a ravens eyes and beaky nose, to face Maggie, who continued with excitement, “Janet, this is Tammy Gardner, William Gardner’s wife. Tammy, this is Janet Martin, she’s…” She stopped in her tracks, not knowing how to introduce the taller woman, but Janet swiftly took over as she extended her hand to Tammy. 

“I’m head of research and development at Arbor Pharma. I work at the laboratory in Watford.” Her softly voiced answer was precise but kind as she shook Tammy’s hand. A small smile graced her face, framed by escaped locks of black hair, but it spread to her eyes when Tammy asked with interest about her work, even though they were interrupted a second later when Maggie realised who Janet had been talking to. 

“Oh my, Jeremy! Aren’t you in Argentina this time of year?” Her face lit up with excitement at the chance of introducing more people to each other. Once again she began, “Jeremy, this is Tammy Gardner, William Gardner’s wife.” Tammy already knew that line by heart, but when Maggie continued, she stilled for an unnoticeable moment. “Tammy, this is Jeremy Oxley.”

She didn’t notice the rest of the exchange, just let muscle memory do its job - shake his hand, say nice to meet you, and so on. Internally she was rereading his file. ‘Jeremy Oxley, mine owner, allegedly selling metals to Hugh Moore.’ A quick switch, she was going over Moore’s. ‘Hugh Moore, weapons manufacturer, involved in numerous illegal arms deals.’ After the quick recap, Tammy returned her full attention to the conversation. 

“Well, I had to meet Wilken’s successor, didn’t I? And his lovely wife,” the older man smiled so charismatically at Maggie and Tammy, he might as well have winked. 

 

Later on in the evening, the party was slowly coming to a close, as more and more people headed home, leaving only a few to sit on the patio. Maggie had hugged Tammy and kissed her on each cheek when she said goodbye, whereas Janet stuck to a small squeeze of her hand, before excusing herself, saying she had work to attend to. So now, Tammy was tiredly sitting in William’s lap, as he and the other men casually discussed business. 

“Where is Mason, by the way?” Jeremy’s gravelly voice asked. 

“Jacob is still in the office working on some reports. He plans to swing by here and deliver them later,” Michael explained. 

Tammy felt William adjust himself beneath her. “Anything I need to help with?” he asked concerned, but Michael quickly settled his worries with the wave of his hand. A few more drinks went down, and Sasha spaced out, looking at Michael’s house. A few stories tall, plastered walls, windows big enough to climb through - although, they were new and probably difficult to open - and windowsills on the outside. An old ivy was climbing up the side of the house in one end, but it wouldn’t be strong enough to climb - not that that would be an advisable way for her to gather information anyway, given the circumstances of their mission. Tammy was brought back to reality when Jeremy cleared his throat and called on her. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were preparing to scale the building,” he chuckled while practically eating her with his cold eyes. 

Realising she had been staring, she looked down at her hands shyly. “I didn’t mean to stare… But it’s a beautiful building,” she swiftly excused herself. 

Michael chuckled. “William told me you have a keen eye for architecture.” As he took another sip of his drink, Tammy blushed under his gaze and hid in the crook of William’s neck. 

“Is that so…” Jeremy continued with a sceptical voice. “What can you tell us about the house then?” Damn! Was he really testing her? Paranoia was a common trait in businessmen, but a sweet patron-of-the-arts kind of person being fond of architecture was not believable enough for him? 

“Well,” she began shyly, tiredness from the evening's alcohol beginning to kick in, “it was built in the early 1800s, I would guess, given the stucco on the ground floor and the cornerstones moving up, but…” she trailed off - something didn’t fit right. “That end of the house,” she pointed with a nod, “is clearly Georgian revival, and not true Georgian. This house was bombed during world war one…” She turned her head to look at Michael, eyes big as a doe’s as if she delivered him the news of a broken home in real time. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to just hold and comfort the girl with those big, sorrowful eyes. Internally, he scolded himself. Get it together! She has a husband who’s already doing just great at holding her close...

Looking back at the house, Tammy continued. “There are more windows on the farther end of the house, and the fact that one of them is a bay window gives it away. It’s clear that they made an attempt to make the new part of the house match the old, since they kept the stucco intact and kept the bricks yellow, but the trim around the windows just screams ‘the arts and craft movement’ and Edwardian architecture.” Turning, this time to look at Jeremy, she stared blankly at him, internally asking him ‘good enough for you?’. 

“Impressive,” Michael smiled, nodding in agreement with William. “You really do have a keen eye for that sorts.” 

“How did you two love birds meet?” Jeremy’s voice was softer and more patient, as he leaned back, sipping his drink. 

“Well, in Edinburgh,” William smiled at Tammy before passing the ball to her. “Quite the coincidence even.” 

“Yeah, William was at a - an event of some kind?” She looked to him for clarification, and he nodded. 

“A company celebration with the Royal Bank of Scotland.” 

“Yes, but it was at this beautiful gallery in New Town and they had an exhibition of Paul Cézanne - Unfortunately, I had had no time to go and see it, but I had painted a bit with Hillary Jackson. Her husband worked at the RBS, and he got me an invite so I could go see the exhibition, the last day before it was packed up and sent back to France. The same night of the banquet.” 

Michael interrupted her, “Wait, Hillary’s husband, Anthony Jackson?” and Tammy answered with a nod and an expression that clearly said ‘here we go again’. “The guy who laundered millions of pounds from the bank?” 

“That would be him,” she said with a sigh. “Quite the scandal, I haven’t heard from them since the whistleblower uncovered it all. And no, I did not know about it.” 

Michael understood her annoyment at his question. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to poke around about it… That’s when you two met then?” He changed the subject back and William took over. 

“Yes, I noticed her standing by herself, turned away from the rest of the party, and she did in no way look like someone celebrating with the rest of us. So, I had to find out what she was all about,” he said with a cheerful smile and squeezed Tammy a bit to lighten her mood. 

She sighed and nuzzled herself closer to William. “I was so lost in the paintings, I didn’t hear you walk up to me - you scared me a bit,” she smiled shyly.

“What a lovely story,” a new voice chimed in, the Scottish accent easily recognised by those who knew it. 

“Jacob, come on over!” Jeremy called as the scot made it the rest of the way to the patio where they were sitting. “Have you met William’s wife yet?”

“I can’t say that I have, but I sure am delighted to finally see her,” he flashed a grin before shaking a tired Tammy’s hand. 

“Too bad it’s in this state,” she apologized. “I’m afraid it’s getting a little late for me.” 

“Are you tired?” William turned his focus completely on the girl in his arms, and after a short assessment of how her limbs draped heavily over him, he realised she was. “Ready to go home?” he asked, and as the girl nodded again, he helped her get on her feet. As she thanked their host politely for a lovely evening, he made sure his assistance wasn’t needed. “Do you want me to come back around here and help you go over the files?” He nodded towards the papers in Jacob’s hand. 

“Don’t worry about it - you have a wife to take care of,” Michael winked at him once Tammy had her back turned. 

At that, William led her wife to their car and drove her home. 

\----------

There were no more hugs or snuggles is the car, only stone set faces. “Mason went to the house,” Sasha stated matter-of-factly, and Thomas added in agreement: 

“Definitely. The reports were a decoy.” 

“Are we putting on a show for them?” she asked cautiously, not wanting to push him in either direction. 

“I guess we have to,” came back as unexpressively as humanly possible, as they drove into their driveway and exited the car. 

\----------

“I guess I’ll leave you to work then,” Jeremy said and followed suit of Tammy and William, shaking Michael’s and Jacob’s hands before driving home.

“How did it go?” Michael asked his right-hand man as they made their way to his home office. 

“Smoothly, no signs of imposture. Mics got installed, no problem, so we should be able to listen already,” he said as he opened his laptop, but just before opening the programme connected to the microphones hidden all over the Gardners’ residence, he hesitated. “Although, we did find a bag…” 

Michael stopped in his tracks, fearing a breach. God, why was it so difficult to find trustworthy people these days? “What bag?” he asked monotonously, but Jacob quickly settled his shock. 

“No no, nothing like that - just a bag I think would be of particular interest to you.” Jacob straight up winked at his boss and long-time friend, making him even more confused than he was previously scared. “Our dear William likes his toys,” he said and handed his phone, full of photos, to Michael who instantly laughed. 

“I sure hope he’s the one using them on her,” he teased as he swiped through the pictures of floggers, canes, cuffs, paddles - everything a dom could dream of - even a good selection of restraints and a spreader bar. 

“We found it in his closet, so I would assume so - also, her style of lingerie would be right up your alley.” He took the phone back. 

“You didn’t snatch a few shots for me?” Michael asked jokingly. 

“This is work, Michael, be a little professional,” Jacob squinted ironically as they sat back in their chairs on either side of Michael’s desk. “20 quid says they’ll fuck,” he said as he moved the laptop so they both could see the screen. 

“I’m not taking that bet,” Michael grinned. “Though I would love to hear her get soundly spanked with some of those toys - God, I’ve been staring at her ass all night!” 

“I don’t blame you - he really got himself a treat, that guy. Now, let’s get to work.” And with that, he hit ‘play’, and after some initial hissing of the establishing connection, Tammy and William’s voices made wobbly lines appear in the display on the computer screen named ‘foyer’. 

\----------

William seized Tammy by the waist to carry her up the stairs, through her fit of laughter. 

“William, put me down!” she giggled, and William nuzzled his nose into her hair to whisper in her ear. 

“I thought you said you were tired.” 

“Not that tired!” she laughed and wiggled herself from his grasp when they reached the landing. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her in for a kiss. 

“Go get ready for bed,” he ordered her sweetly when he broke away. 

When she emerged from their bathroom a few minutes later, he beckoned her silently to make her come to him. He was standing in the doorway, soundlessly inspecting the light switch and socket in the wall. Wide blue eyes locked on hers, he nodded towards his fingertip on the wall; just where it was, was a tiny, unnoticeable indent in the wallpaper, where a screwdriver probably had been used to pop the socket off the wall for a microphone to be placed behind it. Giving each other a determined nod, Tammy drew William in for a kiss, her low moan making a VU meter flash in an office a few streets away. 

\----------

A soft fit of giggles flew through the speakers on Jacobs laptop as the sound graphs showed the waves of Tammy’s voice. 

“William, put me down!” she laughed, and a low ‘thud’ let them know her feet hit the floor. A few minutes of low conversation, irrelevant to Michael and Jacob’s primary interests, and the white noise of a shower, made the two eavesdroppers lose focus of the audio, when a soft moan suddenly brought them back. 

They stared each other down as their faces split with predatorily amused grins. “Told you they were gonna do it,” Jacob patted himself on the back figuratively, and put out a hand to close the computer, only for Michael to quickly stop him. 

“No, I want to hear this.” Michael’s full attention was on the computer now. 

“Alright then, creep,” Jacob called him out, but leaned back in his chair to listen closer to Tammy’s sweet moans. 

Michael shot him a glare. “If you had been listening to her wax poetically about buildings all night with the enthusiasm of an art professor, you would want to hear more of that voice, I can assure you.” 

A high pitched cry interrupted them, and William’s deep purr made its way through Michael’s office. “That’s it. Good girl,” he praised. 

“You’ve got to admit, William has got one hell of a voice too,” Jacob chimed in. 

“Thank god, otherwise this would have been unbearable,” he joked. 

Tammy’s “Oh god!” broke the silence between the men. Long, low groans fell from her lips and through the microphone, but William was silent. 

“You think he’s eating her out?” Jacob asked, testing the waters of the more than absurd atmosphere. 

“It sure sounds like it,” Michael grinned back, as Tammy’s humming became begging, after William presumably moved to do something else, somewhere else. His ice-cold voice was back, so he wasn’t using his mouth, they could tell. 

“Should we give them their privacy?” Jacob was still hesitant, although he wished he wasn’t. “I mean, I’m pretty sure we know they’re not government decoys.” 

“I want to hear her come,” Michael answered, the finger stroking over his upper lip slightly muffling his determined voice. 

Jacob laughed. “Come on, boss, now you’re just creepy! If you wanna hear a pretty woman come just go up to the lab!” he teased. 

“I’m the one who’s creepy?” He shot back jokingly. “Who just snuck into their new coworker's house to-”

He was cut short by the unmistakable sound of a woman having an orgasm - Tammy’s high pitched ‘oh, god, William!’ was heard loud and clear, and they leaned back with satisfied smiles on their faces, resting in the certainty of the Gardner’s veracity.


	8. Germany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael sees Tammy in a new light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took a while. My mental health has taken a dive, mostly just stress, but with what else I have in my glass, it just makes for a terrible cocktail. It's nice, however, to get something out!

Michael took a deep breath before hitting save on the finally done contract on his screen and closing down his laptop in unison with William and Jacob. Letting their furrowed brows relax, they leaned back into the support of their chairs and looked at each other, smiling broadly. “So,” Michael began. “Time for lunch?”

The other men chimed in their agreement and rose to walk lightly towards the doors to the lounge, the burden of the last few weeks work lifted from their shoulders. As they pushed the door open and walked out one by one, they all noticed the pretty woman sitting by the small table, sketching down the scenery around her. Jacob was the one to break the silence with his Scottish accent. 

“Tammy! Good to see you again!” He gave her a genuinely warm smile, in no way letting on what their last encounter had led him on to do. As if hearing her happy and casual “hey” made her existence relevant in other ways than her loud moans had done weeks easier. His and Michael's listenings were non-existent to her and William, but unknown to them was the fact that Sasha and Thomas were damn well aware. 

Upon seeing his wife patiently waiting, knowing full well she was doing her very best not to closely inspect the construction of the metal beams, seemingly supporting the ceiling, he was hit with a wave of guilt. She rose to greet him, but he rushed to wrap his arms around her, comforting her nonexistent disappointment. “Oh Tammy, I’m so sorry, I forgot!” 

Michael and Jacob made their way to the couple at a regular pace, trying to catch up with the conversation. “Forgot what?” Jacob asked, while Michael absently took in the view of the girl. 

And lord, what a view, indeed. Her modern flax-coloured paper bag pants following the curve of her hips, accentuated by the contrast to her waist, looking impossibly small thanks to the belt of the kimono style linen jacket she wore, and her perky breasts. He faintly heard William answer Jacobs question. 

“We had planned a lunch date, but now it seems I’m double booked,” he said with a slightly awkward smile, his usual foxlike features more closely resembling a puppy hoping still to get its treat despite the missed command. 

“We’ll just eat all together then!” Jacob said with a happy, open expression. “The more, the merrier! Where were you planning to eat?” He asked Tammy. 

The only reason Michael didn’t filter out her probably mindless babblings about whatever new cute cafe she had found, was the fact that his attention was turned to her lips. Her soft full lips, at once drawing him into the tempting attraction to her with their silky sheen and pillowy bliss, and pushing him away back to a distance, with their words, from where he for the first time could see her as a person, and not Williams doll. 

“Well, my friend Heidi recommended me this place called Die Jägerhütte a while ago, so I thought we might check it out!” Her energetic smile was rooted and evident all over her face, except for her eyes, seeking the men's approval. 

With a sudden newfound interest, Michael asked “Jägerhütte? That’s a German place, right?” knowing full well it was. 

“Yes, it means the hunter’s lodge,” she clarified. 

“I know! I’m half German, so…” he began, suddenly happy to relate to the girl, when Jacob interrupted. 

“Let’s go then! I’m starving!” 

 

In the restaurant, Tammy sat across the small table from Michael, with William to her right and Jacob to the left, completely charming her way into Michael’s good graces with every word that fell from her lips. 

“-so my time at the Berlin University of the Arts really gave me insight to the fluidity of culture, even when oneself is stationary. Compared to my childhood, where seeing something new every other month made me think culture was unchanging and locked to locations, it was so eternally relaxing to, for once, be the one who was locked, as the world around me flew by - not the other way around.” 

Jacob observed as his two coworkers drank her words like sweet wine and gospel, with the feeling of being the only one capable of commenting to keep the conversation moving along. “Don’t you have to be fluid in German to attend the school?” he asked curiously, not surprised to see Michael’s eyes light up as she answered. 

“Ja, aber Ich habe Deutch in die Schule gelernt, wenn Ich bei meine Oma lebte!” 

“Ach so!” Michael began, finally able to speak again. “Aber, warum lebst du nicht bei deinen Eltern? Wo wohnst deine Oma?” 

Before Tammy could answer, Jacob broke in with an amused smile. “Wow wow wow, mind including the rest of us in your conversation?”

Tammy laughed. “Of course not! My mum and dad travelled so much for work, so most of my early school days were spent on a laptop on a skype call with my teacher. When I came around to start high school, I finally managed to convince them to let me live with my grandma in Denmark. Over the summer we went to Berlin and I saw the university. I just knew I had to go! So I jumped ship on my French course and took German instead.” William recognised the glee on her face at the mention of the art school. Michael, however, was slightly disappointed. 

“Oh, I thought you had German blood in you!” He said with an ironically sad voice and a wink, making Tammy laugh again. 

“I’m honestly surprised there isn’t, considering how crossbred my parents are!” 

“No shame in being a little international,” Michael smiled at her reassuringly, as a waiter came around with their plates. 

Before taking a bite of her food, Tammy threw the ball to her new friends. “How about you? Where did you study?” 

Jacob leaned back with his glass of water, sighing as he recalled the memories of his student days. “Michael and I met at Oxford. He was a year above me in medical school.” 

Tammy threw her head back in mocking laughter. “So I’m surrounded by snobs? Two doctors from Oxford and a lawyer from Cambridge? Give me a break!” 

“Speak for yourself!” William teased, “miss ‘most prestigious art school in Europe’!” 

“Snob is a harsh word if you’re basing it on our schools, darling,” Michael argued. “I didn’t pay off my loans until the company finally got some lift.”

If anything, base it on our success. I paid off my massive student loans with the money I made from the company. 

“And I was there on a scholarship. So if we ever seem snobbish, just know that it’s a trait we have acquired later on,” Jacob winked, before changing the tone through a mouthful of chicken. “What did you study, by the way?” 

“Architecture I’m guessing,” interrupted Michael, sure of his guess. 

“No, actually, fine arts,” Tammy smiled. “The architecture thing is more of a hobby - and buildings are some of my favourite motives!” 

“Any chance we can see some of your works?” Jacob asked with friendly intents but frowned as William carefully took Tammy’s hand. 

The young woman's demeanour changed as quickly as she could cast down her eyes. She tentatively accepted William’s comfort, before managing to answer in a low voice. “N- I, uh,” she struggled with finding the right words, “I don’t really share my stuff. I sold a bit in Edinburgh, and I was about to open a studio, when the whole… Jackson scandal went down. I, I just,” she tried forcing out the last bit of her explanation but eventually went mute. Even as William’s broad, warm hand carefully brushed over her shoulder, she flinched. A small convulsion across her chest drew her posture into a round, closed ball, before realising her husband’s soft intentions and accepting his comfort. 

Michael observed the suddenly sacred girl’s movements and behaviour. Her breath was short and her eyes were fleeing, trying to find a place to rest. “Anxiety,” he blankly stated, but as Tammy’s doe eyes met his ice blue gaze, he snapped out of his trance. Internally groaning, he rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, Tammy, I’m just so used to trying to spot wha-” 

In her attempts at settling Michael’s worries, she found safe ground to continue. “No no, don’t worry - there is just always that point when getting to know someone where you have to decide if you can tell it or not.” Looking down at her hands awkwardly, a smile still found it’s way onto her face. 

“You know, if you ever want to open a studio again, just say it and we will figure it out,” William reassured her, his hand finding its way to brush a loose strand of hair back in place behind her ear. 

 

Standing outside the restaurant, they said their goodbyes for the day. Michael watched as William hugged Tammy tightly and asked with deep concern ‘Will you get home safely?’. She rolled her eyes cheekily, assured him ‘yes’, and went on her way with a kiss on his cheek and a wave to Michael and Jacob. The three men watched as she walked down the street, and made their way back to the office. “You know,” Michael began, “If it’s something you want, getting her, or the two of you, a driver and a guard, it wouldn’t be troublesome. The company could easily cover it,” he suggested. 

William had noticed and gotten used to the men in dark suits following his coworkers around at most times, but for now, found it unnecessary. “She’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself. I don’t see why anyone would be after her?” 

“To get to you, perhaps,” Jacob added matter-of-factly, as if it was an obvious answer William had missed. 

“Well, I don’t see why anyone would be after me either.” 

“Then let’s put it aside,” Michael ended the conversation as they exited the elevator, “for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ja, aber Ich habe Deutch in die Schule gelernt, wenn Ich bei meine Oma lebte!" - Yes, but I learnt German in school when I lived with my grandma! 
> 
> “Ach so!” - Oh, I see!
> 
> “Aber, warum lebst du nicht bei deinen Eltern? Wo wohnst deine Oma?” - But, why didn't you live with your parents? Where does your grandma live?


	9. In War, Cheaters Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things cannot be kept hidden, but distractions can be quite fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, this feels like it's been in the making for too long. I've been struggling and procrastinating a lot on this one! But I think I managed to draw it back to a more manageable state :) 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Tammy has an anxiety attack. I didn't describe it in super close details, but it's there. I personally felt ok while writing and editing, and I do deal with anxiety myself. Just be wary :) 
> 
> Also: a spanking is given.

William was in his office, his tie loose and his hand in his hair, gripping tight in concentration. On the screen before him was Arbor Pharma’s latest sales agreement, sent to him by Michael for him to proofread. Everything seemed to be in order; there weren’t any loopholes or booby traps to get stuck in. But still, something was off. Sighing, he rose and walked to Michael’s office, knocking on the door. He stuck his head in and asked with an equally curious and exhausted expression, “Michael, would you help me understand something?” 

His boss looked up from his own computer and nodded. “Take a seat.” 

William did his bidding and sat down with the documents in front of him. “I’m just confused - why are we selling hydrogen cyanide?” Michael looked ready to answer, but when William continued, he was slightly surprised. “I mean, Arbor Pharma is a medical company. Are we producing paint on the side?” 

Michael looked at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, paint?” 

“Prussian Blue? Tammy has mentioned it sometimes on her endless ramblings…” he waved his hand in front of him as he realised they weren’t on the same page. 

“Ah,” Michael sighed. “Well, hydrogen cyanide can be used to treat bacterial infections, but due to its high toxicity we only use it in rare cases,” he brushed Williams concerns away. “Anything else I can help you with?” He looked at William openly, although he was expecting that to be the end of it. But William took a deep breath, followed by a hesitating bite to his lip, before stopping all time and breathing in the office with his question mentioning the notorious weapons manufacturer. 

“Just one more thing… why are we shipping it to Hugh Moore?” 

 

Michael let his shock evaporate with a deep breath, eyes still wide open, not wanting anything to escape the room. He picked up the phone on his desk, as William sat still, like a scared bunny wondering if it had been seen or not. 

Three quick calls, mostly consisting of the words “my office”, later, Jacob and three guards joined William and Michael in the nauseatingly thick atmosphere. 

“William…” Michael finally began in a low and ominously placid voice. “I think it is about time we properly inaugurate you…” 

William looked around the room cautiously. Two of the thugs were blocking the door, while the other stood a couple of feet behind Michael, all with stone-set faces. Jacob was standing by the side of the table, looking almost apologetic, whereas Michael finally fit the ferret-stroking, drink-nursing, villainous boss-type-mould, William had almost imagined him to fit at their first meeting. 

“You’re a smart man, William,” Michael continued, “and after last week’s lunch with your lovely little wife, I’m sure you know I wasn’t in the best financial position when I finished university. Luckily for me, I had quite a few acquaintances, some of which were very useful for the startup of Arbor Pharma. Sponsorships and connections to sales partners, to help us get off the ground… But none of them could eradicate the competition we faced…” He leaned back in his seat with a deep sigh, as both Jacob and William shifted nervously. 

William squinted and tried to fill the silent break. “What are you telling me?” he asked, even though he was fairly sure he knew the answers, and even surer he didn’t want to hear them. Michael only chuckled with seemingly no intention of answering, so William spoke up. “Murders?” was all he managed to say, making his boss laugh. 

“Ha! Not quite, William, that would be far too cartoonish - and far too suspicious.” His face flashed from humorous to an, ironically, suspicious grin. 

“With the amount of crime shows Tammy makes me watch, I don't think you can blame me for the making the association,” he shot back smoothly. 

“I suppose not,” he mused before putting his pleasant mask aside. “But no - homicide wasn’t a part of our tactics. Hugh Moore was so kind as to sponsor our startup, if w-” 

“On the condition that you provide him with lethal chemicals? He’s a weapons manufacturer, he can’t possibly be using the cyanide for good. How can you say homicide isn’t your agenda when you enable someone else to commit it!? Was getting ahead in the competition really that important to you?” William interrupted in disbelief. 

“Well, yes. Success is peculiar, and as the man himself would say; in war, cheaters win.” Michael ended coldly, before smoothly picking out a gun from a drawer in his desk. He pointed it at William, looking at once deeply furious and arrogantly bored. “Now. We don’t need you to do anything other than what you already do. Just manage what you have to, and we will keep your hands clean. We only need you to keep quiet about what we have going on behind the facade.” 

Before William could protest, Michael continued. “You won’t go to the police. You won’t go to the MI5 or the MI6.” As he rattled off anyone who could possibly help their enemies case, determination grew on William’s face at the same rate his hope fell. “You won’t go to your neighbour, your mum, your-” 

“Tammy.” He stopped Michael in his tracks, making him look up, creating a storm of lightning between their equally cold, blue eyes. “I don’t keep secrets from my wife,” he stated stoically, hoping to somehow end this hellish faceoff, and for a second, he got to enjoy his victory, as Michael put down the gun. 

He raised his eyebrows to properly stare down William. “Then the only option you have is to bring her into it as well.” 

 

William tried to keep his voice light as he called Tammy, asking her to come and meet him at his office. Michael suggested sending a car, only for Jacob to swat at his arm and chastise “are you dumb? She’ll know something is wrong immediately!” 

Now, she was sitting still in the chair William had previously occupied, as he stood by the wall behind her with sternly crossed arms, as Michael laid the truth out to her. As he finished his explanations by praising William’s commitment to being truthful to her, she was quiet. Dead quiet, staring into his eyes as if waiting for more. 

“Really? No response?” Michael chuckled. “I never got the feeling you were a sociopath, little painter.” A taunting smile slowly spread across his face, knowing full well how it made her feel. 

William could hear her anger brew, but when he stepped forward, she had already exploded in rage. 

“EXCUSE ME?!” She stood, pushing the heavy oak chair back in the process. “I’M A SOCIOPATH?” 

William grabbed her around her waist before one of the thugs got the chance, and wrestled her back. She was ready to jump over the table and dig Michaels eyes out, her strings of profanities not letting anyone doubt it. 

“You just spent the last couple of minutes telling me how you help your friend manufacture illegal weapons, and then you call me a sociopath?!” Tammy struggled against Williams strong arms, as well as she fought Sasha’s instinctual responses, reminding her how to jerk up her elbow and place an elegant hit to his sharp jaw and further immobilize him. Her combat skills would without a doubt tell Michael she wasn’t just a dolly wife of his associate. 

William thought he had won their little match when she stopped trying to decapitate his boss, and he gave her a scolding “Tammy!” in a voice cold as ice. “Listen to what he says,” he hissed in her ear, desperate for her not to make the situation worse for herself, all the while Michael just smiled. 

A sadistically amused smile. “That’s more like it… I knew you were feisty.” 

Tammy turned around and pushed William back, eyes and voice verging on tears. “And you’re okay with this?” she accused, her voice first low and hurt, then quickly rising to a boil. “You just took this information and decided not to do anything?!” 

“Tammy, no! I couldn’t just-” He tried to settle her calmly, but when she moved to push his softly embracing arms away and scream more, he pushed her back against Michael’s desk and growled loudly. “Tammy, we’re way beyond having a choice!” 

“I’m sorry to do this to you,” Michael sounded sincerely like he wanted to comfort them. “But William is right. You don’t have a choice. This is your life, and if you learn to accept it, I promise you, it can be enjoyable. And I’m sure you know this… When you painted with Jackson, you must have known all their wealth couldn’t come from sourly saved pennies, and you were able to ignore that. This is the same. There will always be people doing evil, Tammy. If I don’t do it, somebody else will. You might as well take what you can get.” 

As Michael’s soft words sung in Tammy’s ears, her eyes filled with water in horror and her hands tightened on the edge of his desk. She faintly registered William walking towards her, and she flinched as he tried to hold her. She sat down, back against Michael’s desk, as sounds faded and countless images flashed through her head, expressing her frustrations to her, as if following along them would ease her anxiety - intrusive thoughts picturing her smashing her head into the heavy oak desk, biting off her fingers, flooded her eyes in what felt like an eternity, and attempting to push them away only seemed to make them worse. 

Upon seeing William trying to establish contact with the soundlessly sobbing girl, whose jaw seemed to be stuck trying to bite through a boulder the size of her fist, the previously silent Jacob finally stepped into action. Snapping his fingers on either side of her head, he tried to get her attention. 

She didn’t react - didn’t look, didn’t turn, didn’t flinch, only sat still, fingertips digging deeper into her scalp. William’s hands covered hers in an attempt to comfort her, but his touch only seemed to waken her hands and send them to her arms, digging and scratching into her skin. 

“What medication is she on?” Jacob was kneeling beside William, who after a moment of thinking recalled the answer. 

“Uh, sertraline,” he fumbled with his words, wanting to focus on his wife. 

Michael had risen and walked to stand beside them observing the scene. 

“Should we give her benzo?” Jacob asked his boss, fully regressed to the time they both worked in regular practice. 

“We have some diazepam on hand,” Michael answered casually, yet focused, “from the meeting last week. Five milligrams, you reckon?” 

“I was thinking ten, honestly.” 

“Nixon, dash down to the conference room and fetch a package. It’s named Valium on the box.” As the thug left the office, Michael was also kneeling with his coworkers who, without noticing, were all cornering Tammy. 

William’s arms blocked them off from her defensively. “Would you mind quitting the doctors talk and tell me what the fuck you’re going to do to my wife?!” he spat with fury, eyes locked on Michael’s. The thoughts and mental images of these freshly unveiled monsters drugging her into oblivion, maybe even further, crashed through his mind like fine china against polished floors. 

Jacob’s hand came to lay on his arm, comfortingly. “Diazepam is a benzodiazepine, which is a type of instant anxiety relievers. They can be used along with SSRI’s, such as sertraline, if necessary. We are not harming her.” His soft voice had the desired effect on William, who steadied his breathing and calmed down to regain an overview of the situation. 

When Nixon returned to the chaos-filled office, Tammy was still sitting on the floor, this time with her heavy head in her weak hands, concentrating on Jacob who sat in front of her, insisting that she focused on his voice and nothing else. All while William and Michael impatiently paced the room, William cursing himself that he couldn’t help his wife - not that he blamed her, he understood quite well if she didn’t trust him at the moment. When they noticed the guard's broad frame enter the room, they shot up to take the box and pour her a glass of water. 

William approached her and followed along to Jacob’s quietly spoken directions. 

“Tammy, William has something to calm you down - just some medicine. Do you think you can swallow the pills?” 

At her rapid yet small nod, William handed her the two tablets and the glass of water, supporting her head as she fought them down through her tightly knotted throat. 

The moment Jacob saw she ingested them, he was on her again. “Okay Tammy, well done… Focus on my voice again, okay? Match my breathing...” he began and moved on with sweet ramblings of nothing, until her aggressive and involuntary hand movements turned into soft reaches and grasps for something to hold onto. 

William picked her up and pulled her into his lap, as he sat on the chair again, holding her close and sending resentful glares to the man across the table, who he now, for better or for worse, was loyally and securely bound to. The only relief he got was Michael’s regretful glance back. After eternities of staring in the returned silence, Tammy began stirring in his arms, trying to stammer something out, but not getting any further than ‘I-’. “I should get you home,” he finished her sentence for her, and she nodded in agreement, rubbing her forehead against the collar of his shirt. 

“Nixon,” Michael broke in, “take them home. And William,” he stopped his friend in the door, making him face him. “I am sorry.” 

As William looked at him, he knew he meant it, and he only nodded in response before leading his barely-balanced wife out of the monster’s den into the monsters’ world. Driving home, he felt as dazed as Tammy looked. Nixon, who had followed in a black SUV, assured them of his assistance, should they need it, and William bid him goodnight, before leaving him in his car in the driveway and carrying his tranquil wife upstairs. As he carefully undressed her and covered her pale body with one of her colourful silk nightgowns again, she began silently weeping. He held her barely conscious head to his, hushing and praising her. “Shhh, my love. You did so well. No harm will come to you. You are safe.” And as they went to sleep, Sasha knew Thomas had directed his words to her. 

 

Tammy woke up next morning feeling out of place. The anxiety had left her emotional palette empty and the pills, though mostly worn off, were making her feel even more numb. Following the scent of fresh coffee, she walked into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. 

William looked up from his newspaper. He couldn’t say he was surprised Tammy didn’t embrace him by pressing her forehead to him as she usually would, but he was saddened by it. “How did you sleep?” He asked gently. 

Tammy only nodded rapidly, not exactly a precise answer, but William understood. ‘Yes, positive’. As she moved to sit across the small table from him, he pushed his plate with a piece of toast to her, urging her to eat. 

“I’ll be going to work soon,” he informed, trying to gauge her reaction. He could hear the tears press behind her facade as she spoke with a shaking voice. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” 

“He could own half the government for all we know, Tammy,” William sighed. “It’s not safe for us to speak up and step out of line.” 

“But isn’t it our responsibility?” Her voice broke. “People are dying at Arbor Pharma’s hands!” 

“And we might too!” William interrupted with a harsh voice. “Tammy, if you tell anyone, they will end up in a shallow grave next to you before anyone can do anything!” His eyes were frozen, yet water was looming around the edges, and before Tammy’s tears began falling, he fled the confrontation. “I’m going to the office. We won’t discuss this again.” 

“But William-,” she stood and followed behind him, pleading him to listen, as he whipped around and harshly pointed a scolding finger at her. 

“NO! No ‘buts’, no pleading, no nothing!” He shouted his scolding. “Tammy, this is the end of the conversation! One more word and I will punish you for this childish insolence!” 

“But you have to-,” was all she got to say before William grabbed her harshly by her upper arm and dragged her into their living room, where he promptly sat down in the middle of the couch. 

“No Tammy. The only thing I have to do is take care of you, and if you don’t accept my protection willingly, you can be damn sure I will make you take it!” He hissed as he pulled the barely dressed girl over his knee and flung her silk gown over her ass to rest at her waist, despite her pleas and protests. He easily stifled her fighting with the first smack to her backside, startling her and drawing the most pathetic whimper from her lips. 

“William, ple-“ she began but stopped her high pitched voice in the last second. After all, she knew better than to argue with her dom and husband. So she laid still, holding on to William’s leg for dear life, as he continued landing agonising blows to her backside, and drew yet another humiliating cry from her. 

And another one. And yet again as he kept on spanking the progressively more and more submissive girl in his lap, until he had delivered a satisfying number of painful and stinging smacks, judged by the colours of her ass and face - once both were sufficiently red from tears, pain, and humiliation, he stopped and made her sit up, holding her close to his chest, where she found comfort by hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Slowly, he rocked the girl back and forth until her cries went silent. “Anything more you want to say?” He asked in a menacingly even voice. 

She shook her head ‘no’. 

“Good girl,” he praised with a kiss to her forehead. “Then go back to bed. You need to rest. I have to go to work.” His voice was heartbreakingly monotone, as he let her stand and followed suit, and walked with a hand between her shoulders back into the hall, where she stopped in her tracks. 

“Are you still mad?” she asked as she turned and pressed her forehead to his chest, hiding her eyes from his. 

“Tammy, no…” he sighed and put a soft hand in her hair, making her look up. “Not if you promise to keep being my good girl, as you’ve always been.” 

“I promise,” she said, voice only breaking slightly. Finally feeling sober and free of shock and hysteria, she let reality set in and asked rhetorically. “There’s really no way out of this?”

“I don’t think so.” William patted her hair absently. “Us leaving is not safe for Michael - and by extent, not for us either. Stay at home, paint your paintings. Be safe, okay?” he begged her stoically, and as she nodded her ‘yes’, he kissed her forehead and left her standing numbly as he went out the door. 

 

As William walked past Lin and the bodyguards in the lobby, they were all minding their business as per usual, but he still felt that something had changed. Obviously. Even as he walked Tammy out the day before, the ageless Asian by the front desk sent him a new look, as she typed away on her keyboard. He knew that she knew what had gone down, and in her eyes were both suffocating amounts of pity and respect. A new authority dwelled around his slender frame as he walked into his office with a concealed exasperated sigh. William sat down and carried on working as he otherwise would have, numbed by the events of the last sixteen hours and paying little attention to the gory details Thomas for some reason wanted to fill him in on, until a knock on his door drew him from his concentration. 

Michael was standing in his door. “Morning William. We have a meeting downstairs in five minutes.” 

William answered as if nothing had happened between the two. “Who with?” 

“Moore and Oxley,” Michael said matter-of-factly, as if they weren’t responsible for the deaths of thousands, and William rose, pretending the same thing, and went with him to the elevator, where they met Jacob. 

They walked in and stood emotionless in silence, shoulder by shoulder, until Michael in the middle, patted Williams back. 

“You did right in telling your wife. And you’re doing right by protecting her. And as far as the assumption you made this morning, you’re also right. Except, of course, for the fact that I don’t dig shallow graves. We’re not sloppy.” 

When William understood what his boss was referring to, he turned his head and stared, equally shocked and offended. Had they been spying on them? Had they heard their fight this morning? And what he did to Tammy? 

Michael had remained clinical during his little speech, but upon seeing William’s expression, he actually huffed a giggle. 

Jacob swatted his arm. “Sorry, William. We’ll get the microphones removed as soon as possible. We just had to make sure the two of you aren’t duping. We do a lot of things that would be disastrous if the MI’s found out - I’m sure you understand.” 

And he did. He really did, and only turned his head back to face ahead. “I’ll take Tammy out to dinner tonight, so that might be a favourable time for you to break in,” he stated as the doors opened, and he walked into the board room, greeting the weapons manufacturer and mine owner with a level of professionalism, not even the Queen could top. 

The whole meeting, Michael watched William with admiration. He was as collected, forward, and business-minded with their ruthless companions, as he was with the kind hospital manager, Roger Hall, mere days before. 

As the meeting drew to a close, Hugh Moore, the sharp-faced arms dealer, began poking. “So, William… I hear you and the wife got inaugurated last night.” He clicked his pen and sent the younger brit a challenging glare. 

“If that’s what you would like to call it, then go ahead. Also, sign here.” He ignored the pestering and piercing blue eyes staring him down with purely triggering intentions. 

Hugh flung his pen back out and elegantly signed the documents in front of him, making the lethal chemicals his, and the money Arbor Pharma’s. “Why did the two of you marry anyway?” he persisted, making William subtly look to the ceiling and sigh, a move Tammy had dubbed his ‘lord-give-me-strength’ eyes. 

Luckily, Jeremy gave him patience instead, if only by teasing his old friend. “That sounds rather condescending for someone who is married with kids, who can often be found urging on Michael and Jacob to get themselves a wife.” 

“That might be true,” his rumbly voice began, “perhaps I should turn my attention to them instead.” He raised an eyebrow and turned his hawk eyes towards the bachelors of the group, who looked helplessly caught off guard, even though they should have been used to the questionnaire by now.

Jeremy rubbed the bridge of his nose after taking off his horn-rimmed reading glasses with a sigh to stifle his laughter. Turning to face Michael with a more serious tone, he chastised him. “I would guess the real reason why Michael has not yet settled for a damsel, is because he is too scared to go to the research lab and chat up Janet,” he teased seriously. 

“I have told you, it’s not happening,” Michael sighed impatiently. 

“And how can you be so sure?” Hugh broke in to take Jeremy’s side, matching his fatherly pushings towards making Michael settle down with a wife. 

“Because, first of all, she is a lesbian, and if I need to explain that to you one more time…,” he informed and joke-threatened. “Secondly, she’s my friend, and thirdly, I’m busy.” 

“No, third is; you’re too picky and spend too much time in those clubs,” Jeremy interrupted to continue his unwanted advice. 

“Part of finding a suitable partner is sheer luck. And I have not been as fortunate as William to find a dove who shares my interests,” he said, teasing William of his thoughts on what he had heard that morning. 

Hugh, however, either ignored or didn’t pick up on their banter, as he went on to further roast Jacob. “And what about you, Jacob? Any news?” 

“This is not the end of the conversation I want to be at!” he teased and rose to flee the Inquisition. “If everything is in order, I suggest we lift the meeting and get on.” He looked around the faces of his business partners and friends, an asking glance scanning their eyes. 

“I agree,” William chimed in. “Enough with the questions,” he joked along, as the other chuckled and rose, heading for the door. Just as William was about to escape, Hugh’s claw came to rest fatherly on his shoulder. 

“I mean no disrespect,” he began with weird warmth in his cold blue eyes. “Go home, love your wife. Don’t let others get on your back,” he said kindly in a rumbly voice and even gave William a sincere smile. 

For the millionth time that day, William could only answer with a respectful nod, as he accepted the advice, and let himself be business mindedly adopted by the older man and his firm grasp on his arm. They said their polite goodbyes and went in each their own direction, William going back to the upper floor to grab his bag before heading home. 

Walking past Lin in her jade green blazer, he nodded politely as she kindly assured him ‘see you tommorow!’. With every level he went down in the elevator, he felt his frustrations evaporate more and more, and as he went in his car, the impatient urge to see his wife was only settled by his constant repetition of a single thought: “Just one more stop before I head home!”

 

The smell of paint hit William the moment he stepped inside their house, and thus he knew exactly where to find Tammy. Walking through the living room and into her studio, he found her deeply concentrated in the work in front of her, as usual. The canvas on her easel was slowly being filled with colour, the most lovely pale tones of green wallpaper, pink skin, white shirt and yellow light, all contrasting the darkness from the blue night sky coming from the window. The scene pictured an office in an apartment, no doubt from the early 20th century. The walls were almost bare, and the man sitting at the writing desk was wearing a white shirt with suspenders and had his hair held back with pomade. He was leaning over some papers with a pen in his hand and a cigarette between his lips, probably there to calm him; he seemed tired after a long day of work, evident by the state of his shirt, once probably crisp and neatly tucked, but now loosely bunching up wherever possible, and the single curl that had freed itself from the rest of his black mane. 

The scene was beautifully framed by the foreground, the doorway to the office, by the frame of which a woman was hiding. A nude woman, to be exact, with one hand finding its way around the doorframe, as she curiously peeked into her husband's workroom, seeking his attention. William had to admit, Tammy had flair for painting nude people, the woman on the canvas bearing proof. Her skin was so soft in the golden light from the lamp on the man’s desk and faded so subtly to almost blue tones underneath her broad hips and on her thighs. Though, her face was turned away, and he couldn’t gauge her thoughts. Was she nervous? Did she feel alone? 

William walked up behind Tammy, still captivated by the painting she was working on, and wrapped his arms around her middle. “Is that how you feel?” he murmured in her ear, “like I’m forgetting you?” 

“No,” Tammy whispered, “because just like her, I know he’s going to turn around and ask her about her day.” She put down her palette and put her hands over William’s, taking in the view with him. “She will ask him about his. And he will ask her to come closer and let her sit in his lap. And he will hold her close and rock her back and forth. Sit in stillness, as if they’re freezing time. And all will be good…” 

As she spoke, it was as if the picture came alive for William’s eyes, and he buried his face in her soft hair, taking in her scent - just as soft as her scene. He forced himself away from her after a little while, to fish the papers out of his pocket and hand them to her. 

It was a second before she noticed what he held out to her, but once her eyes caught the tickets, she took them and whipped around in William’s arms. “We’re going to the theatre?!” she asked excitedly, like a child on Christmas morning, but before William could tell her ‘yes’, her joy was masked by shyness. “William, you can’t make me sit through an entire play… not after this morning,” she blushed, making him chuckle. 

“Can’t I?” a sharklike smile was on his lips, revealing his teeth. “I seem to recall a certain flight to Singapore, which you spent sitting on a very sore bottom, little girl.” His voice was like sugar, pouring over her and encasing her in a trance-like state of mind. His hands held her tighter, and he growl-hummed in her ear. “You were so painfully desperate for my touch… and so delightfully sensitive.” 

Tammy could only respond with a moan; a short one, followed by a desperately whispered ‘William’. 

“Mm! William… please…” 

“Please what, sweetling?” he asked tauntingly, knowing damn well ‘what’. 

“Please touch me, William,” she begged into his shirt, as she mindlessly pulled herself closer to his firm chest. “Make me feel good… like after that flight, in the hotel room, so high above the ground… please?” 

“Hmmm,” he began, “though I do not like to say no to such a sweet plea, especially with the addition of such a delicious memory, I don’t think we have time for that sorts if we want to make it to the theatre in time… Go get dressed!” he urged her on with a squeeze before letting her go. 

A little while later, they found themselves in their seats, front row (of course) for Tammy’s sake, so she could take in every visual detail of the scenography, costumery and lights. So she could see the actors’ tiniest flicks and changes of demeanour, how the single tear spilt over and hit the floor. 

On their way out she stared around the room and just let Williams hand on her back guiding her safely outside. 

They were giggling and smiling like young lovers, but as soon as the car doors closed, Thomas and Sasha could finally relax with a deep sigh. 

“God, to all those people we don’t matter…” Sasha pondered. “They don’t even know our names. And yet we spend all day trying to convince them we’re somebody else, as if they care. As if they can even tell the difference. We’re so similar, yet so different from the people on stage!” 

“It’s absurd. Everything feels staged to me but seems absolutely natural to everyone around,” Thomas answered, equally tired. 

“Well, as long as we’re convincing, nothing else really matters.” She added the cold statement in a far more friendly tone than what matched its meaning. 

“I suppose that’s true.” A long silence followed, then Thomas began again. “Jacob says the microphones will be gone tonight.” 

“You think he’s lying?” Sasha asked matter-of-factly. 

Thomas chuckled. “The amount of distrust you have in people is incredible.” Although one could have meant it as a critique, his tone and broad smile proved he was amused rather than revolted. 

“Rather too strict than too lenient,” she leaned in with a wink, further fuelling his entertainment. 

“We’ll swipe the place for good measure,” Thomas added with a smile to settle her worries, as they drove past Nixon in his black SUV, just outside the gates to their driveway. He was sitting still, looking over the quiet street like a hawk, as he should. 

Once inside, Sasha quickly analysed the hall and surrounding rooms, checking for cameras, before going in-depth and checking every nook and cranny for mics. Meeting up with Thomas, who had given the upstairs the same treatment, she gave a sigh of relief. “Nothing down here!” 

“Nothing upstairs either,” Thomas smiled, almost ecstatic with the return of privacy. “I almost expected them to leave one in our bedroom. Michael shares certain interests with us” he added, half exasperated and disgusted, half amused. Once Sasha had given an entertained huff, he finished his statements on a serious note. “The only things left are the cameras at the gate and around the property.” 

“Finally! We can stop having such obnoxiously kinky sex, then!” Sasha rolled her eyes comically, before winking at Thomas. 

“Thank god…” he joined in with a tickle to her side. “It was getting tiring,” he added with the most sarcastically raised eyebrow, but suddenly lost the joking train of thought. He stood still and took her in, her brown hair and eyes matching so beautifully, and standing out so strongly against her milky skin. In a second he was back in the jolly mood. “Wanna do it anyway?” he asked with a shy huff and a curiously raised, cheeky brow. 

She raised a cocky eyebrow and moved closer to him. “Well, you do owe me one… coming in and so blatantly rubbing against me under the guise of complimenting my painting,” she purred. 

“I’m afraid I couldn’t help myself.” He wrapped his arms around her and rocked from side to side, almost dancing. “And with such a beautiful motive… mmm, so sweetly reminding me of your naked body…” he hummed and let his hands venture to her ass, still slightly sore from the morning’s activities, and brush over the thin fabric of her dress. 

Like so, they danced slowly through the hall, whispering sweet, teasing murmurs in each other’s ears. Hands moving through hair, over fabric, over the slightest bits of bare skin, and chests pressed together, making their breaths short and needy, fuelling their impatience. With her hand around Thomas’ waist, Sasha pulled him towards the stairs, urging for movement towards the bedroom and towards her, while still keeping her face close to his, letting her lips smooth over his slight, slight stubble, grabbing on her soft skin. She caught his lips between hers, and he latched on, taking her face between his hands, leading her where he wanted. 

He let her pull him through the door and down on top of her on the bed. Still fully clothed, she wrapped her legs around him and drew him closer, as he deepened the kiss, letting one hand take care of balance as the other roamed over her dress, trying to find a button, a zipper, a drawstring, anything! Anything that could bring her warm breasts closer to him. Finally, he found the zip on the centre back of her summer dress and gave it a small tug, urging her to sit up to let him pull it all the way down, but as she did his bidding, she took her chance to push off his jacket and attack the row of white buttons down his chest. 

Moments later, they were both as nude as the woman in Tammy’s painting, standing downstairs, and Thomas’ hands were eagerly pressing soft squeezes to Sasha’s breasts, as his erection grew harder against her inner thigh. 

Sasha brushed her hands over his toned chest and abdomen, down to stroke his shaft, drawing a long, strained breath from his lips. 

“God, Sasha!” he moaned into her neck. “Fuck, I’ve missed saying your name…” 

“Come closer, Thomas,” she begged, and he obeyed, lining himself up with her wet centre. As he slowly pushed into her core, she relished in every inch he stretched her and pushed against her insides, making sparks rush through her blood. Once he was in to the hilt, he picked up a changing pace, making Sasha gasp at every quick pull, and moan deeply at every patient push. With his fingers in her hair, and hers in his, he moved faster and closer, until, with eyes locked on one another, they came over the edge into the free fall of their orgasm. Shattering through walls of glass as they fell through the air, they held each other close for protection against the harmless tinglings in their skin, until they landed safely on beds of feathers and silk, smoothing softly and coolly against their warm and oversensitive bodies. 

Coming down from her ecstasy, Sasha thought for a moment and let herself do so out loud. “This is weird… it’s certainly not the first time I’ve had sex on a mission, but…” she stopped. 

Thomas understood her confusion and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. “But it’s the first time the mission hasn’t been dependent on it?” He suggested. 

She nodded a little and turned to face him and put her forehead under his chin. A sudden empty feeling filled her gut. Sure, missions had gotten her in the arms of men she found attractive once or twice, but only after Thomas did she realise something had been missing. That connection on deeper levels making her feel so strongly for those she went to bed with, something she only assumed was a part of her out-of-work hookups. Hiding herself in his warm embrace, she whispered. “It’s the first time I’ve wanted it.”


	10. Plan of Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pick up where we left off, or at least the morning after. Sasha and Thomas make a plan, Tammy and Hannah make a plan, and all mentioned plans are carried out at a wedding. A lovely wedding on a warm night in June.

“... But that's the thing… in Eastern Europe agents can use any mean to fulfil a mission, sex included. So we’re often called in from the west to help shut down human trafficking rings - as bait. That’s the stuff you go to therapy for after it’s done.”

Sasha was laying with her back turned to Thomas, the morning sun aiding his hands in caressing her skin. He was patiently listening to her soft words, and though every single one felt like a boulder ramming into his heart, he knew it eased her. It seemed she had never spoken before, as she cautiously let go of the truth. 

“Is that why you were so pissed at Judy the first day?” He interrupted. 

Sasha chuckled impatiently. “I’m not the only agent she could use. And as I said, I was the main operative on that mission in Crimea. You have no idea how important that mission was to me…” Sighing, she thought back on her early days as a student. “The idea of putting an end to corrupt leaders and ensuring peace through well-functioning governments was the reason I became an agent. It’s in line with everything my grandma taught me.” 

“Are you still mad you’re here now?” Thomas asked in concern, but to his relief, Sasha laughed that scoffing push of air out in amusement. 

“No. Or I guess, yes. If I could prove that ambassador to be corrupt, the recognition I would get from the SVR would be unheard of. Not to mention the applause from my old teachers…” she trailed off in her daydream, but pulled herself from it before she could dwell. “But on the other hand, I’m glad I’m not sleeping with him anymore. I was playing the dumbest concubine you could possibly imagine and it seems that dumb women are his only fucking kink. And I know I’m not supposed to complain, but he’s just so boring.” She exclaimed with exasperation at the memory, making both her and Thomas laugh. But soon after, her serious tone returned. 

“...of course, I would enjoy it from time to time. Not just with him, but others on other missions as well. But I guess it never occurred to me that it would affect me anyway… I always thought I could keep my work experiences at arm's length, but…” Sasha trailed off. “But I guess I had so little to compare it to…” 

Thomas felt she reached another stop and prompted her to keep speaking. “Compare, how?” 

“So few relationships. So little sex I… I actually wanted, you know?” The realisation hit her as she spoke, and she cringed at the thought. “Most relationships and sex I’ve had have been for missions…” 

Thomas almost chuckled. “You are so busy… you work so much,” he murmured into her neck, through layers and layers of morning-messy hair. 

“Well, for so long, work was all I knew. My school only prepared me for work, nothing else. All interests we pursued and perfected were used to forge alibis. All the friends we made were seen as coworkers. We have been conditioned to become dolls for the tacticians to play with…” Her voice dropped at the end of her speech, as alienated feelings flooded her mind. “Work is all I know…” 

“That’s not true!” Thomas protested and sat up to turn the girl around to face him. He saw a flicker of fright in her eyes at his sudden movement, but frustrations seemed to overtake it. 

“Is it not? Then why do I feel I don’t know who I am?!” Sasha shouted and sat up to face him, the self-doubt suddenly stirring up a storm in her stomach.

Thomas was stumped for a moment, but pitifully put his hands on hers. “You do know… I know!” He grabbed her chin, as she turned to look away. “You like easter, don’t you? And you’re feisty, like your grandma! Sasha…” A smile crept onto his face as she laughed with closed eyes. He looked at the young woman with admiration and affection. Such a sweet person, hid behind the streamlined shell she had been given at her graduation. “When I first met you, I had no idea how full of surprises you were… You seemed so pridefully open about everything. As if you had nothing to hide…” His thumb brushed softly over her cheek. 

“I guess I hid it from myself too…” Before Thomas could comfort her further, she changed the subject. “What is our next step?” 

Thomas’ fingertips traced lightly over her arms. “I need to get copies of the contracts sent to Judy, but I think it’s safer for us to meet with her rather than sending it. The office has a secure network, it would blow our cover, and security would know immediately.” 

Sasha nodded and kept her gaze focused on an empty point. “I’ll get Tammy on Instagram, then the SIS can monitor us there. A sweet post about an upcoming weekend trip to France will let them know where to meet us. And if she sets up a studio, we will have a place where we can send documents without leaving tracks,” she suggested. 

“Brilliant,” Thomas applauded, but Sasha was in deeper thoughts and continued. 

“But her anxiety makes a loophole… she needs to see a therapist first, but there’s no way Michael can let that happen… Having her be alone in a room, talking about secrets for an hour.” 

“William will push for it,” he interrupted, “ask Michael of what limitations they have when it comes to psychologists.” 

“Yes!” Sasha’s eyes lit up and met Thomas’. “It’ll help bring her closer to Michael again. I’m of no use if I’m at home being bitter all the time,” she chuckled and smiled at the thought of being back in the field. The feeling of a job moving forward fuelled her like nothing else. 

“Great!” said Thomas, holding her hands tightly. “Then we have a plan of attack!” 

 

“Great!” said the blonde woman sitting across from Tammy. “Then we have a plan of attack!” They had been seeing each other for a few weeks now, thanks to Maggie Hall’s recommendation. ‘Tammy, Hannah is so sweet and understanding! One of the best therapists in London! Michael actually recommended me to her!’ the short woman had chirped at a dinner party Tammy reluctantly had accepted going to, after William told her Michael, of course, would be there. Although Maggie and a few martinis had softened her up to accept some light conversations with him. 

Now, Tammy held her own hand to settle her nervous fidgeting, as a small smile bore evidence of her newfound confidence. “Yes… tell William I want to sell my paintings again. Set up a studio and an online presence,” she repeated the points Hannah and she had reached in the past hour. “And whenever I feel limited or judged or followed, allow myself a break.” 

Hannah’s smile rounded out her cheeks, otherwise slim under her high cheekbones. “Great,” she added again. “And remember from last time; don’t hesitate in talking things out with people if you feel ready. I’m sure Michael feels the same.” 

Her kind words caught Tammy slightly off guard, but she nodded. “Of course. It just takes courage to talk to someone who scared you. But you and I can talk more about it in a few weeks, after the wedding,” she said in a lifted tone as she shook Hannah’s hand goodbye and walked out the heavy oak door. 

 

Michael was standing on the small terrace in the twilight of the warm summer night with a cigarette in his hand when Tammy approached him. His tie was tight around his throat and his feet were slowly growing tired after a long day of work and a long night of dancing. His only rest was the nicotine entering his bloodstream and the women in low cut tailored dresses, such as Tammy. The deep blue taffeta shined around the curve of her hips and breasts, and the draped off-shoulder sleeves framed her chest and face perfectly for a portrait. 

“It’s a beautiful night for a wedding,” Tammy began cautiously, almost surprising Michael with the fact that she initiated a conversation with him. 

“It is,” he agreed. “I just hope Hugh and Jeremy will finally understand that I’m not courting either of them,” he winked at Tammy, making her laugh. They turned to look through the French doors, eyes locking on the beautiful brides inside the ballroom. 

Lin and Janet were dancing in slow circles, both blooming in white. Lin’s heels made her tall enough to rest her head on Janet's shoulder, but only because the taller woman had opted for elegant ballerinas. The only reason why Tammy didn’t whip out her sketchbook was the attentive photographers, sliding around in the shadows, capturing pictures from all angles, which she knew she could get access to after the wedding and use for reference. 

Tammy found her courage and began talking while still looking at the calming couple. “I’m sorry I’ve been so hostile lately. I’ve had time to reflect on that evening. I think the last step for me to find closure, is to be sure you and I are… okay, I think.” 

Michael listened patiently as she spoke, and once she stopped, he kept the civil tone up. “I understand. I was scared you would never forgive me, but I wouldn’t hold it past you. I was a bit sinister…” he chuckled to himself. “It’s just a facade you have to adopt when you do what I do…” His amusement faded and he turned his head to face her, but by the end of his speech, he had cast his eyes back down. “Tammy, I don’t enjoy everything I do, but I enjoy what it gives me. The colleagues that became friends. And seeing my medicine heal people around me is solace from the misery I, in the end, am involved in.” 

“Like my paintings…” Tammy said absently, both for his and her own comfort.

“Huh?” Michael turned to catch her gaze and focus. 

“As you said,” she began, “I painted in Hillary Jackson’s studio… I knew they had to be doing something illegal, I’m not dumb… I just pretended I was…” 

Michael faced the garden again and puffed his cigarette. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I would have liked to be friends with you. I apologize.” He patiently waited for himself to let the words fall from his lips. 

“Friends sounds nice,” Tammy admitted and smiled kindly at Michael. 

“You think we could do that?” he side-eyed her jokingly, making her laugh again. 

“We could try…” 

“Well then… what do friends do?” 

“Friends,” Tammy began, going along his light-hearted tone, “come to each other’s gallery openings.” 

“No way!” Michael’s jaw dropped, as he added the numbers in his head. There had been flyers and posters around the neighbourhood about a contemporary impressionist painter opening a gallery in the square, and of course it was Tammy… “You’re Davis?” he asked in surprise. 

She couldn’t hide her triumphant smile. “My maiden name, yes. So it’s what I started out painting under,” she explained. 

“Of course it is…” he smiled at her cleverness, making himself feel ten times more clueless. The young woman’s face, half lit by the warm light from the reception, was full of pride and joy, making him soft. “So, I’ll see you then?” he asked cautiously. 

Tammy smiled from ear to ear “Yes. Yes, I’ll see you!” when William came to wrap his long arms around her. 

“Would my wife mind joining me for a dance?” he murmured in her hair, and Tammy followed him to the dance floor to waltz around, her chest pressed to his. 

Her head rested on his shoulder as they swayed from side to side, whispering silent secrets in each other’s ears, protected by the soft tones coming from the string quartet. 

“This hotel is probably on an unprotected network,” Sasha estimated. 

“It is. I met an operative a few days ago, outside of Hannah’s office. Had some light unassuming chit chat, then she handed me a neat little device.” Thomas winked at his coworker. 

Sasha smiled slyly. “Then let’s go exp-” She was cut off by Thomas’ lips on hers as Hugh Moore danced closer to them than what Thomas liked. Though, the older man seemed completely focused on his much younger wife, whose elegance could compete with Tammy’s. 

At first, his lips were stiff and unmoving, but the softness he met made him loosen up. Slowly, with a hand on her neck, he pried her lips apart with his tongue and pecked them just hard enough for her to register the small sparks in her skin. As the intruding couple danced away, he broke his warm embrace, leaving Sasha gasping a little. “You were saying, darling?” 

She leaned in with her villainous smile, he recognised from their first night together, and she rasped in his ear. “I said, let’s go expose a company.” 

Her whisper made him chuckle, and he kissed her lips again shortly, before placing a hand on her back and leading her out of the ballroom. Casually giggling and smiling, with hands running over backs and arms in feeble attempts to satisfy their excitement, they snuck around dark hallways until they found an empty office. Sasha closed the door after them and sent Thomas a cheeky glance. 

He laughed and began searching for something in the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Easily, his long fingers found the flash drive and contact lens case they were looking for. Giving Sasha the memory stick and a knowing glance, he turned the case over and unscrewed a seemingly non-existing compartment. Looking inside, he saw a little switch and two LEDs. 

Sasha had come to stand beside him, allowing herself to let an absent hand caress his back. “You guys have always made better electronics, that’s for sure,” she praised. 

Thomas just chuckled lightly and said “watch, now,” before pushing the switch up. He looked at Sasha, as she stared at the lights with wonder and admiration. Like a child on Christmas, he thought, just as the green lamp flashed, letting them know they were safe from online intruders and guarded networks. 

The excited smile that spread across Sasha’s face was about the most adorable thing Thomas had ever seen - at least the most adorable thing he had seen her do. 

But it disappeared as quickly as it had emerged, as Sasha remembered she had a coworker. That she was not alone. Thomas was right there, he was a fellow operative, and what on earth would he think of that unprofessional display of - she cut off her stream of worrying. What was done was done, and worrying would not help anything. 

Thomas barely noticed her change of face, before he cupped her cheek in his hand and made her eyes meet his. 

She stared right into his clear blue eyes, almost sparkling in the dim light. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked sweetly, waiting for her to nod her head to give her permission. 

She blushed pink under his blue gaze and nodded, and no sooner and no later, did Thomas put his hand on the nape of her neck and pull her in. 

Once again, his stiff upper lip melted against her soft ones and encased her in a gentle trance. The hand and arm on her back and neck held her securely against him, at any moment ready to keep her balance for her, should she give out. And though for a moment she thought she would, she found her strength and comfort to put an arm around his toned torso and a hand to his slender cheek, and draw him closer, deeper. His lips were warm against hers as he brushed velvet fuzz through her sensitive skin throughout her body like a current. 

Despite her wish to linger, Sasha pulled herself away with a chuckle. “We have work to do,” she whispered and turned to the lonely computer next to them. She inserted the memory stick and began tapping away on the keyboard faster than Lin on a Tuesday morning at the office. 

Thomas shamelessly admired her ass, as she stood slightly bent over. “You look amazing, you know that?” He asked rhetorically, but it didn’t break her concentration. “Your dress following your shape like that… and so busily you type with that smile on your lips. My little villain…” he mused and came to stand behind her, shielding her back by pressing his chest lightly against her. 

She turned her head to look him in the eyes with a smirk. “We’re the good guys, remember?” 

He chuckled. “My femme fatale, then.” He pressed a kiss to the skin behind her ear as he praised her. 

“That’s more like it,” she whispered as she hovered the cursor over the documents in the PC's USB display. Double-clicking once and pressing “transfer all files”, she moved them to the message she had opened and hit send. 

Thomas watched her skilful fingers work quickly for his eyes. “We might make better electronics, but you sure know how to use them,” he murmured when out of nowhere, Sasha drew him in for another kiss. 

As she weirdly pressed herself against the wall and drew Thomas uncomfortably close, he realised what was happening just as she whispered: “someone’s coming”. 

He followed suit, pressing her against the wall and attacking her lips like a teenage boy in a broom closet with his date during the school dance, only more skilled. His hands were gliding over her hips when the door was opened and golden light showered through to hit them. He turned his head and sent the intruder an annoyed glance and growl as the woman pressed against his body moaned gently, but before he could recognise the man in the door through the blinding light, it was closed and they were left alone. 

In the hallway, Michael closed the door and turned around with an amused smile, and interrupted his coworkers in their business laced conversation. “We might want to find a different office for our impromptu meeting.” He ushered his right-hand man and the weapons manufacturer along, while silently taking a mental note of Tammy’s pleasure ridden face. How her brows were drawn together and her lips puckered just slightly as she moaned. Fuck, she really was gorgeous. If he had been in the empty room with her, he would not have been as patient as William was; her smooth blue dress would not even have been stripped off of her, just pushed up far enough for him to - he stopped his train of thought. Tammy might be hot, but she was married to his coworker. His friend! He corrected himself before realising, Tammy was more than just someone he knew through William. She was his friend as well. Wasn’t that what they had just agreed on?

Hugh Moore had led the way to another available room for their private conversation, which allowed Michael to stop his wonderings about Tammy. 

“I have four that might interest you,” Hugh began, and Michael settled back into his business mindset. 

Down the hall, Sasha listened carefully as the small group of conversing men went away, while holding completely still between Thomas and the wall. Once she was sure they had left, she removed herself from Thomas and went back to the computer. She finished off her work by making sure no one could track their actions, before pulling out the USB and giving it back to Thomas. “Do you have a lens cloth?” she asked him, and after a little bit of digging in his pockets, he found and handed her the little piece of microfiber fabric. She took it and began wiping over the keyboard, after turning off the pc, leaving no physical prints on it. “So, should we get back to the party?” She asked in a light tone, but Thomas was on her like a hawk - just as she wanted. 

“Now, now, now, little missy,” he began in a husky voice as he cornered her between his arms. “After you so teasingly pulled me against you and your soft chest? Kissing me with such lovely lips?” 

“It was… for the sake of the mission?” She argued in her best innocent-but-actually-absolutely-not voice with big pleading eyes looking up at Thomas’ bright blue ones. 

“You think that makes me want you less?” He asked in a menacing tone. “Trust me, little girl, I would still very much like to hike up your skirt and press you against the wall as I fuck you into oblivion,” he whispered raspingly. “Will you let me?” 

The fuzzy buzz in Sasha’s chest grew stronger as he leaned in closer to her. “Only if you keep talking like that,” she challenged, only for Thomas to chuckle deeply. 

“My pleasure…” 

Time felt like fast forward until Thomas’ fingers dug deeply into her thighs and she was held back against the wall, as he promised. He had opened his pants just enough to free his shaft, quickly standing proud to the task at hand. He positioned himself by her centre when he noticed and fully realised her lack of underwear. 

“I see you’ve opted to leave your knickers at home,” he inquired in that low rumbling voice, whispering in her ear. 

“Well, I… I didn’t want panty lines.” She hesitated as she tried to mask the obvious lie with innocent eyes. 

Thomas gave a mocking chuckle. “As if they’re going to show through taffeta and two petticoats,” he scolded, as he pinched her inner thigh and bit her ear, sending cruel waves of electricity through her body. 

Sasha gasped and drew him closer, enjoying his heaving chest against hers, as he pushed into her soft core. Patiently, he rolled his hips into hers, moving her up and down, ever so slightly, the wall behind her keeping her in his reach. She could just smell the faint hints of sweat under his cologne’s rich pine-ish scent, as he continued to hold her against the wall, fucking her not-so-patiently-anymore. 

His desire grew deeper with every thrust, and he lost himself in the scent of her mahogany hair, groaning ferally every time she moaned next to him. With one arm he managed to hold petticoats and fabric out of the way, as his thumb found her clit and dragged over with gripping pressure, making Sasha tangle her fingers in his hair. 

The pressure against her pelvis, chest and sex became too much, as they continued to build up in her core, threatening to spill over. “God, Th- sir…” She caught herself in her moans before she could finish his name and used his title instead, saving herself from a potential fire, but lighting a whole other spark. 

Thomas growled in her ear and pressed himself closer. “That’s right, little one… Say it again...”

“Sir! Sir, please…” she begged desperately, hoping to keep his dark brow furrowed over his piercingly blue eyes, staring at her animalistically. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, Sir, make me come!” she cried out in a strained voice, making Thomas humm in dark approval. 

“Beg for it,” he challenged the girl, who could barely keep her balance. 

“Please, Sir, let me! Please, let me come, I’ll be so good for you,” she began rambling, keeping her voice down. “Please, let me…” 

“Hmmm,” he hummed with a smirk and picked up his pace. “I guess I can’t say no to such a sweet little thing. Come for me,” he commanded in a whisper next to her ear, and she did his bidding. 

Almost collapsing from her shaking, deeply rooted in her core, she held Thomas tighter and absently put her head on his shoulder, resting her face in the crook of his neck. She barely registered his deep groan, silenced once he finished inside her. 

As they slowly came back to full consciousness, Sasha carefully brushed Thomas’ curls back in position, as he adjusted her dress. Once their blush had faded and they were sufficiently modest, they took a deep breath before cautiously trying some light conversation. 

“Ready to rejoin the party? I think we’ve earned a second slice of cake,” Thomas teased, making Sasha laugh - for once, with her full body. She felt so light as she danced around with him again, as if her heavy gown was suddenly made of feathers, lightly sweeping over the floor, carried by her graceful steps. With Thomas’ hand on her lower back, it didn’t matter she was bottom of the class in ballet, all those years ago. To him, for a moment, she felt she was enough.


	11. The Price Of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tammy becomes a business partner, at the expense of someone else. Someone Sasha happens to know. 
> 
> Alternative chapter title: One Man’s Trash, Other Men’s Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days late of the deadline I'd set for myself, but I needed to edit a few things. I'm glad I did. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Character death, mention of torture, rape,

A few weeks after the wedding, Tammy was in her studio. The opening had been a success, with people from both the neighbourhood and far away attending. Even the old woman she had spotted at the market, just after they moved in, was there. Her hunched back was once again covered in a bright coat, and she instantly recognised herself on one of the many canvases, just as Tammy recognised her. 

“Oh my god, what a coincidence!” Tammy interrupted herself, and suddenly left the conversation she was currently in, leaving Michael and a local potter wondering what the rest of her sentence to them was. 

“Golly gosh, is that me?” the short woman wondered out loud in a heavy London accent when she inspected the picture more closely. There she was, in a bright coat, in the towns square, speaking to a fruit vendor. 

“Well, yes, I…” Tammy began her stream of words, not sure if she should explain and apologise or explain and applaud, but the woman stopped her nervous wonderings. 

“Surely, you wouldn’t choose to paint me! Some silly old lady buying jam!” she laughed in flattered disbelief. 

“Of course I would!” Tammy insisted. “It was such a beautiful day, and such a beautiful scene! I had to paint you!” 

The old lady blushed deeply, and Tammy continued while admiring her painting. 

“When I saw you, it was as if spring was fast forward. After such a long and grey winter, someone shining so brightly just made the world new and young!” 

After a little while, the potter and Michael had joined them. The old woman, Mrs Crooks, as she had introduced herself, happened to live across the street from Tammy and William, in her house, heavily concealed by trees and flower bushes. 

 

But now, on a regular Friday, Tammy was just sketching in some initial lines on the linen, when her phone’s alarm went off. It was almost noon, and she had agreed to meet with William for lunch, so she grabbed her phone and texted Nixon, her guard and driver, who was at her doorstep not a minute later. 

He drove her to the headquarters, where she took the elevator to the upper floors. Once she entered the lobby, she went to Lin’s desk, where Janet was already standing. Both women’s faces lit up upon seeing their friend. 

Tammy smiled from ear to ear as well. “The Yu-Martins have returned from their honeymoon, I see!” she gleamed as she approached them, and Janet drew her in for a hug. “How was China?”

Lin laughed as she and Tammy hugged awkwardly over her desk, overflowing with the papers that had piled up during her holiday. “China was lovely! We’ll tell you about it another time. Michael wants to speak with you.” Management’s secretary smiled kindly as she urged Tammy just to go to her boss’ office, and to Tammy’s surprise, Janet followed. 

She knocked on Michael’s door, and he called them in. “Please, take a seat,” he urged with a smile as he finished something on his laptop. 

Tammy looked around the room, a little confused. “What’s going on?” she asked when Michael closed his laptop and turned his full attention to the women across the table. 

“Tammy, we need a cover,” he began in a strained voice, obviously trying to figure out the best way to put his proposal. “We are auctioning some…” 

“Chemicals suited for tranquilisers and bio-elimination,” Janet filled in when Michael hit a stump. “You promised you wouldn’t veil it for her. She deserves to know the whole truth.” Her voice was unmoving when she took Tammy’s side - Tammy, who could only sit still and listen curiously, if slightly frightened. 

“Yes, of course,” Michael apologised before he continued. “But a multitude of our potential buyers prefer auctions are held in the flesh - not over phones or the web. But as I’m sure you can imagine, such a public and, well, illegal event can’t just be held - at least not without exposing the top contributors to Europe's infrastructure’s source of wealth. So we need to hide it in plain sight.” His voice was composed and even, but the wrinkles appearing on his forehead revealed his worry. 

Trying to keep up with the unwavering expressions of Janet and Michael, Tammy straightened her back and asked tentatively, feeling naive. “What do you want me to do?” 

Upon realising the young wife of his coworker wasn’t freaking out, Michael relaxed in his explanations. “We need you to paint.” 

“Sorry, what?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“We will auction your work as part of raising funds for our research department - hence Janet’s participation -” he nodded at his old friend and coworker. 

Tammy was a step ahead of him. “But in reality, you’re selling lethal chemicals.” She stated the, to her, obvious. 

“No. Well, yes…” Michael struggled, “Both. The auctions will be double - in reality, we are _also_ selling chemicals, yes. But we will, of course, make a profit from your paintings as well. We can’t pay you from that loot, since we put all the proceeds of the frontier towards our research foundation, but you will, of course, receive a grant as thanks for your contributions. A generous grant,” 

Tammy waved her hand in front of her face as she cringed her eyes shut. “Please, stop. Don’t make it sound like you’re bribing me, that just makes me feel… nasty. No offence.”

“None taken. I understand.” Michael was patient. He knew it wasn’t an explicit ‘no’, but just hesitation. “Though, I would like to insist on paying you in some way for your work, if you say yes.” 

Tammy even chuckled. “It’s not that I don’t want to be paid - I just don’t want the money to be my reason for agreeing.” 

“So, is that a yes?” Michael asked with an open expression. 

Although she was fairly certain it was, Tammy couldn’t help herself but ask, “What if I say no?” 

Michael and Janet took a deep breath in unison, and the dark-haired woman answered before her boss got the chance. Her demeanour was suddenly sharp and stern, making Tammy’s lower stomach drop and cower. “Then we find another way. This is a question of whether you make it hard or easy for us.” 

Michael’s stern and dark demeanour from _that_ night had returned, as he chimed in with Janet. “As I’ve said before, someone will always do this. It might as well be us.” 

Tammy nodded slowly, and let go of her fidgeting fingers, regaining the confidence matching her friends’. “Then I’m in.” 

Michael and Janet immediately softened again, just as someone knocked and Lin stuck her head through the door. “Are you done? Jacob, William and I are waiting for you.” 

A little later, all six were sitting around a table in Die Jägerhütte, when Michael raised his glass, in a much less casual manner than what for the scene. “To the newlywed,” he nodded to Lin and Janet, “and to our newest coworker,” he nodded at Tammy, as the other chimed in, ending their workweek by fading their conversations further and further away from the offices, all the way to China, through the stories of Yu-Martin’s honeymoon. 

 

The day of the auction came around. The paintings were stunning, as they hung on the wall in the auction hall, bright colours flashing against the mahogany panels. Women in broad shadowed hats and men in suits walked around, inspecting them closely and from afar, as art enthusiasts would at any given auction - but among some, there was a sense of a shared secret. And to Tammy’s great confusion, she was in on it. 

The official lot list had been made public a few weeks earlier, letting buyers know what paintings were on the podium. And of course, the unofficial list had also been secretly delivered to those to whom it was relevant, letting the chemical interested jet-setter criminals, who were all absolutely ready to outbuy any casual bidders, know which painting went along with what substances. 

To some, the correlation between pictures and dangerous pharmaceuticals was obvious. Those ‘some’ being Tammy and Janet, who had met up shortly after the decision was finalised, for an unsettling chat both women were desensitised to. What chemicals were for sale, and what they were capable of, were scribbled down in Tammy’s notebook, to serve as prompts and inspiration. Of course, she couldn’t paint the Matsumoto Incident or soldiers suffering after exposure to mustard gas. But she found her way to make cruel correlations anyway, earning her an equally disapproving and proud look from Michael, once he realised. 

One canvas was startlingly white - shiny metal countertops and white masks drew viewers in to see a young lab assistant disinfecting scalpels, needles, and other tools, in his white coat, with a white cloth, soaked in the substance sold along with the picture itself. Chlorine. An effective, but highly toxic, disinfectant. As a chemical warfare agent, it was first used during World War 1. Due to its density, it was highly suited for use in the trenches, where it stung the back of the victims' throats, before truly setting in, causing eye and skin irritation and making the soldiers cough and vomit, until after a few breaths later, it began taking life after life after life, choking its victims to death. 

Other paintings were bright blue and green, with grass, water, and flowers on summer days, attracting both bees and interested buyers. All the different insects on the stretched pieces of linen, reflected the sunlight off of their shiny exoskeletons. Bugs and bees were all immobilized on the canvas, soon to be sold off to the highest bidder interested in sarin. Sarin, Tammy repeated internally, an extremely potent nerve agent, causing death in under ten minutes after exposure to a lethal dose, by inducing paralysis, making the lungs dysfunction. Although developed as an insecticide, its original purpose was quickly abandoned in favour of its lethal properties. 

As she had painted on and on with her mind full of horror, Tammy found herself becoming desensitised to the topic. Except for one picture, that still stung sorely in Sasha’s chest. 

A little boy in a soft blue bed stared tiredly at her with wet eyes. His blonde curls framed his pale face and brought some golden colour to his picture that his once rosy cheeks couldn’t provide anymore. He was shrunken deeply into the light blue pillow that matched his nightshirt, which his grandma would make sure he got changed every day, even if he could barely sit up anymore. His family didn’t know what was wrong with him. It had started as frequent common colds attacking his lungs, and fevers making him sweat and wake up throughout the night. All the fullness in his cheeks were gone along with the blush, as the years went on, and he fell more and more ill. The doctors didn't realise what the cause was - perhaps little Alex was just weak. Only once he was rushed to the hospital at four in the morning, he was correctly diagnosed. Stage four Hodgkin’s lymphoma had spread to his bone marrow and weakened him to the point where simple pneumonia could kill him. And after just five hours in a hospital bed, it did. Their neighbour, who had driven Alex and his mother, returned back to the small town with the devastated woman and saw the boy’s sister and grandma stand in the door, waiting for them. Both women immediately knew they were one passenger short, but showed it differently. The elder one’s face was suddenly set in stone, and she just managed to grab the young girl, before she ran away. But Sasha had pulled away with such force, her grandma’s hand made her stumble and fall onto the dry, dusty gravel, where she scrambled around before she regained her balance and made another attempt at running, not knowing where to, until the strong farmer caught her as she passed him, and carried the violently screaming and sobbing girl inside. 

As much as Sasha hated to let go of the picture, Tammy knew it was necessary. Remember the research fund! she reminded herself, just in time to pull herself together, as Janet walked over, lead by the enthusiastic Maggie. 

“Oh, I’m so proud of you two!” she sung, “making such beautiful art, and raising money for cancer research! You are such good people!” 

Tammy wanted to both laugh and cringe, resulting in an expression in between the two, that thankfully could be read as a friendly, if slightly awkward, smile. If only Maggie knew… The short, blonde wife of a genuine at heart hospital manager, would have a heart attack and go into her grave already rolling if she knew what went along with the painting Tammy had been admiring. Tris(2-chloroethyl)amine, Tammy recited to herself in her mind, aka HN-3, aka mustard gas. Sometimes used in chemotherapy against Hodgkin’s disease, but most often known and used as a chemical warfare agent. 

“And there are so many people!” Maggie continued as she dragged her friends around the intricate auction hall. Wood panels were on all of the walls, and small pillars created hiding spots and alcoves on one side of the room, with doors leading to break rooms and unused offices. 

People were still walking around socialising and checking out the lots when Sasha spotted him. His round, red and shiny face in the middle of his even rounder, even redder and even shinier head. All atop his, once again, round body. It wasn’t shiny, but Sasha knew the redness continued under his matte suit. She froze and flinched before she could stop herself. Quickly, she untangled her arm from Maggie’s and went to grab Thomas’ instead, from where he stood some meters away talking with Michael and a few buyers. She dragged him into an alcove where he immediately realised something was wrong. Very wrong. 

“Are you alright Darling?” He might as well have been William asking Tammy about her anxiety, as he tried to figure out what had caused Sasha’s sudden freak-out. 

“See tomato-face out there?” she nodded towards the man, and Thomas discreetly poked his head out to see him, scrunching his nose a little at her rude description, but became quite amused upon seeing the obvious similarity. 

“What about him?” he asked, a little more casually than Sasha liked. 

“I’ve met him before,” she not-quite hissed through a sigh. “In Crimea.” 

Thomas’ stomach filled with ice and he took a sharp breath. “Do you think he recognizes you? Did he see you?” 

“I’m not sure…” She frantically put her fingers to her temples. 

“We could get you out of here, just say it’s anxiety,” he tried to settle her when a new voice broke in. 

“Everything alright?” Michael was shielding them in their alcove with a hand over the frame. 

Thomas and Sasha stared at each other in shock for what felt like an eternity, not knowing what to do, until Sasha, in the last moment, resorted to her foolproof emergency tactic. 

Tears slowly started flowing from her eyes, as half-choked sobs forced themselves out of her throat, making William coo over her, hushing soft nothings of comfort, and Michael put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Tammy, what’s wrong?” he asked, as Thomas kept hushing her. 

“Shhh, Darling, it’s okay. He can’t hurt you.” 

Michael took a step back, slightly hurt and shocked. “Who? Me?!”

William just shook his head and nodded towards the obnoxiously round man. “Tammy has… met… him before,” he managed to convey in a strained voice, Thomas making sure that Sasha was in on the new addition to Tammy as a character - by ‘met’ he meant ‘been assaulted by’, in the hopes that Michael would help in keeping Tammy away from her rapist, and thereby Sasha away from her previous work encounter. 

“Why would Herr Glocke hurt-” Confusion filled Michael, but quickly cut himself off at the realisation of what William meant with his intense eyes and strained expression, and went to put a comforting hand on Tammy’s shoulder. “Tammy, I’m so sorry. I’ll do something immediately.” was the last thing he said in a calm voice, before almost angrily pulling himself away from the couple. 

He quickly spotted Nixon in the corner and jerked his head harshly to motion for him to come over. For some reason, the thought of the bald, elderly man gripping and groping his Tam- his friend, made him feel disgustingly jealous and possessive. He spotted the round man across the room and strode towards him, as Nixon came to shadow his boss. 

Herr Glocke was admiring a painting when Michael joined him. “She sure knows how to paint… I would love to meet her. Is she busy?” he said in a greasy voice, making fusses of anger crawl up and down Michael’s spine. 

“I’m afraid so - this is her first auction of this size,” he excused her. “But, why don’t you follow along? I think I saw her going into a break room. You could meet her there.” Just as Glocke was about to head for the farther wall with doors, with a slimy smile on his face, Michael put out a hand to keep for a little longer, as he added. “There’s also some… business propositions, I would like to discuss,” he said in a low voice before his smile curled upwards into a shark grin. 

The two began chuckling, almost evilly, as they made their way to a room in the back. As they walked in, Michael prayed William and Tammy had gone to a different one, and much to his relief, they were nowhere to be seen. 

“About the business,” Michael began, trying not to let go of his cool facade, even though molten anger was threatening to spew out of him. “The exchange rate for our goods and yours will no longer suffice for me,” he said and crossed his arms, setting them in stone. 

The short man’s ears turned red in frustration - not that it took much to make his skin change in colour. “But it is the rate we have always used! Two lots of flunitrazepam for five of our finest merchandise!” he argued. 

“Well, ‘finest merchandise’ is a bit of an overstatement,” Michael said patiently, enjoying how his old business partner and newfound enemy squirmed. “Besides, I just happen to have received some rather interesting news.” The shark smirk was back, this time with hawk eyes that didn’t leave its prey, as he ordered: “Nixon, take him out.” 

The old man barely had time to say ‘what’ before Nixon’s fist collided with his temple and the world around him went dark. 

“I’ll see you in the office,” was all Michael said, before leaving Nixon with the task of moving their mess elsewhere, and going back to the auction himself. 

 

After moving the heavy man to the headquarters, Nixon waited for his boss to join him, which he did along with Janet. Michael had explained the situation to the two, once the auction was successfully over, and Tammy had been sent home safely with William. 

“-She freaked out when she saw him - understandably so, he assaulted her,” he explained as they walked to his office, where the still-unconscious Glocke was waiting. 

A small hour later, he finally woke up, after giving the three plenty of time to let their anger stew. He quickly gathered himself and his thoughts and spit out through his chubby cheeks: “What is this kind of disrespect?!”

Michael chuckled. “I could ask you the same,” he said coldly.

The bald man was fuming as he rattled off strings of curses and swearwords, but Michael silenced him by coming to stand inches from his face. 

“I could accept what else you did with the drugs I gave you. I could accept what happened to the merchandise - the people - Janet didn’t get her hands on. But I will not accept this kind of personal insult, under any circumstances,” he sneered. 

“What do you mean ‘insult’?” 

Michael stepped back. “Tammy Davis Gardner. You don’t even remember her name, do you?” 

The man grew more and more frustrated. “I just went to her auction!” he screamed, but Janet rolled her eyes and whipped out her phone. On the screen, there was a sweet picture of her, Lin, and Tammy sitting around a table, eating lunch. Glocke recognised Tammy’s face, after a little thought break, and sighed. “Ah. That’s what her name was. Michael, that was almost a year ago. I didn’t do anything to her! You didn’t even know her then! You can’t possibly blame-” He was cut short by a fist to his face. Michael had stepped back for Nixon to place a punch. 

Michael sighed and stepped back in. “You’ll see, old friend, that I can, in fact, blame you for the misery you have caused my friend.” He turned to Janet, who was already preparing a syringe and asked. “Can you use him?” 

She tapped the side of the glass cylinder. “I would like to take a look at his arteries, but that’s about it. I’ll be done with his body in a few days, then you can take out whatever anger you want on him,” she stated matter of factly as she finished preparing the syringe, and went to inject the knockout drugs into Herr Glocke’s sweaty neck, despite his protests and continued claims that he barely touched Tammy ‘before sending her on’. Nixon, Michael and Janet all got enough of his noise, and the thug stepped forward to speed up the process of making him unconscious. 

 

Tammy and William returned home that night with big smiles on their faces, but they were soon shed to make way for Sasha’s exhausted mind. Thomas could tell Herr Glocke was still on her mind as she silently went into the shower and turned on the cold water. He stripped down and joined her under the cold stream. “What are you not telling me about that man?” he asked. 

“It’s confidential,” she stated coldly with her back turned. 

“Please Sasha. You seem so upset. What is it?” he inquired carefully, as he added a calmingly scented body wash to a loofah and began scrubbing her back tenderly. 

“He is the leader of a trafficking ring,” she said, much to Thomas’ surprise. He had expected much more resistance in getting it out of her. “He was my easiest link to the ambassador. I was picked off the street in Berlin. And my profile fit the ambassador’s liking, but of course, we already knew that. So I was more or less gifted to him. He had influence Glocke wanted control over. Then I became the first proof we got of his corruptness.” She was standing still with her forehead against the cold glass wall, as Thomas rubbed her back and shoulders. 

“Glocke, did he...?” He hesitated, not knowing how to put his question - he had seen how mad Sasha got when Judy tried to be overly elegant and prudish, but he didn’t want to be harsh either. 

But Sasha shook her head slowly. “No. He barely even touched me. But he raped a girl in front of me. He had tortured her, I’m sure. She had surgical scars all over her stomach. They were all so new. Both her hands were amputated. It was gruesome. She was so weak.” Her sentences were short and full of breaks, as she felt her stomach tighten up at the memory. 

“Why was he there today?” Thomas pondered as he washed her sides. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Janet lied to me anyway, and didn’t tell me of all the chemicals there were for sale. At least three of the chlorine lots were something different. And I’m sure Glocke would pay good money for effective roofies.” 

“Of course,” Thomas agreed, as he moved to wash her front in silence, his hands making quick business of washing her chest and sex, as to not intrude. But as he went to pull his hand away from her centre, she stopped him with a hand around his wrist. “Sasha,” he protested out of worry and pity, only for the girl to whisper with genuinely pleading eyes. 

“Please,” she begged, suddenly feeling small. 

Thomas gave in to her helpless expression with a sigh and let his finger slide cautiously over her clit while taking in every change in her face, making sure she was okay. She had closed her eyes and was leaning her back against the cold wall. She drew her breath in small hitches as Thomas moved his fingers back and forth between her lips. He came to stand closer by her, effectively holding her between his body and the wall, feeling her heaving chest against his.

She pressed herself against the wall, concentrating on the cool surface to ground herself, as she felt Thomas’ fingertips circle her entrance and slowly push in. He tilted them back and forth inside her, moving her lower body along with his movements. Every little push or pressure ran through her body from somewhere deep in her lower stomach, up through her heavy chest, knotted throat, and pushed the tears out from behind her eyes, which she had effectively shut. 

She was silent, and Thomas didn’t know what to say either, until he let intuition take over, and put a hand on her cheek, making her open her beautiful honey brown eyes, who to his sorrow were filled with tears. “Sasha…” He pulled her close and wrapped both arms around her. “Little Koshkina,” he soothed and let a comforting hand run over her wet hair and back. Big tears were silently spilling from her red eyes, as he let go of her to rinse off any remaining soap suds. He lead her out of the shower and made her stand on the bathmat to dry her off with fluffy, warm towels, all while those heartbreaking tears fell onto the floor. 

He brought her back out of the bathroom and tucked her in tenderly, in the big, soft bed. Sitting by her side he looked over her as she adjusted under the covers, and once she laid still, he brushed his hand over her forehead before whispering. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He came back after getting himself in order for bed, and clmbed in next to her, holding her suddenly fragile frame close. Her breath had gone steady again, and Thomas could tell she was on the verge of unconsciousness, as he brushed his hands over her again while whispering reassuring words in her tired ears. 

“Sasha, you are safe. You are loved. I’ve got you, I’ll keep you safe…” were the last words she registered, before darkness swept in and carried her thoughts away. 

 

Sasha recovered from her shock after a few days in solitude in Tammy’s home studio. And a small week after the auction, Tammy was over her shock as well. Just as William called her from work on a friday noon, asking her to come to the office. 

“...We were thinking to grab lunch together again,” he said over the stable connection. “And Michael wanted to tell you something.” 

A few minutes later, Tammy found herself in the lobby between the offices again, chatting with Janet as they waited for Lin and the men to finish working. The door to Michael’s office opened, and he stuck his head out. 

“Tammy, come in, please,” he said with a smile, and she cautiously walked towards him. She took her seat across from him. “Thank you so much for your contribution to the auction. You were quite the success, I’m sure you already know,” he praised and showed her a newspaper to back up his claims. A photograph of her and Janet beside the picture of the small child, accompanied by a headline that read: ‘Modern classic painter raises money for cancer in successful auction’. 

Tammy was smiling widely, but felt she could only nod in agreement, flattered shy from the praise. 

“However, we did encounter one hunch,” Michael added in a changed voice, momentarily scaring the sweet girl across from him. “Glocke,” he clarified, and though he settled her worries, she still shrunk in her seat. “He is taken care of. He can’t hurt you again,” he promised, making Tammy look up from her nervous fingers, where she had rested her gaze. He stood up, opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a picture file, which he opened and placed in front of the confused painter. 

The cold, dead eyes of her rapist stared emptily up from the papers, and dulled Michael’s words as they reached her ears. She cringed deeper and deeper and she flipped through the pictures of his faded skin and pale face with tubes running in and out of his nostrils and mouth. Michael stood and paid little attention to her actual reaction, as he was more focused on berating the now dead man, to make sure she knew how he had met his maker. “... Some might find it to be excessive or a misplacement of anger, but expecting me to keep working with such a classless piece of shit, after learning what he did to an actual friend of mine, is absurd…”

His words were dust in Tammy’s ears, but gospel to Sasha. Once she turned over the last picture of the round man flatlining, she rose with tears in her eyes and walked right into Michael’s chest and hugged him tightly, much to his surprise. 

For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, as she had stopped him mid-sentence of his explanation, but eventually, he figured out how to put his hands around the crying woman. 

“Thank you. Thank you so, so much,” she whispered into his shoulder. 

“Of course,” he managed, slightly thrown off his feet at her warm affectionate expression. 

The knowing William appeared in the door to check in on them, in case stubbornness got the better of either of them, and though he was surprised to see his wife hugging a very confused probable murderer, he was happy. A happiness that stemmed somewhere deep inside him, somewhere closer to Thomas than William himself. Both of them knew Tammy and Sasha well enough to see the closure Michael had brought them, despite the more or less gruesome act that brought it. 

The absurdity of the situation struck Sasha as well - Glocke’s relationship with Tammy was non-existent, until Michael interpreted Sasha’s fear in the only way that made sense in his world. And it had taken no more than such a lie to drive Michael to, most likely, do the dirtiest part of the dirtiest work, and murder his old business partner. And Sasha was able to ignore that. She was able to let go of the fact that she was hugging a maniacal doctor, in favour of chathardically earning herself and Tammy peace.


	12. Refined Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Utonchelovek and Sasha's nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.   
> How are you? It sure has been a while.   
> This became hard to write, both figuring out the details of the plot, and then actually writing it. But now it's done, and I'm super proud of it! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: graphic depictions of violence, rape-ish, definitely non-con.

_The dry dust covered her toes and rubber flip flops, as her mother's wet kisses moistened her forehead. Some vaguely awake part of Sasha’s mind smiled at the memory of her mum and the terrible shoes before her consciousness was swallowed again. Ба́ба drew her in for a close hug. The strength she had in her old arms would always be a surprise to anyone who didn’t feel it regularly, and now it would be a while before Sasha felt it again._

_“Take care of yourself. Make me proud,” the old woman chastised her, and Мама nodded as she dried the tears that had spilt over her cheeks._

_Oh, how Sasha hated those tears. She tightened her lips into a pout and drew her brows together, as she nodded her last goodbye and turned away. Their neighbour held open the car door for her as she went in. The same car that had taken her brother to the hospital mere months earlier was now going to take her to her new school. Or at least some of the way._

_They sat in silence for much of the ride. Although Sasha usually would pester him with questions about the farm and how the car’s engine worked, she was silent now. She had been ever since Alex passed._

_It took her the better half of the day to get to the school. First by car with her neighbour, then by train over the border to Russia, and finally by bus for two hours until she got to the smaller town, where a woman from the school picked her up along with another new student and drove them to their new home._

_Sasha relived it all, moment for moment, from when the silent, shy girl in the car with her turned her freckly face - even more freckled than Sasha’s - and started up a conversation. Initially, she had surprised both Sasha and their teacher by actually talking, but when Sasha answered, she surprised the mousey girl and the silent teacher in return._

_“My name is Marinka,” she said with a nervous smile, flashing her big teeth and twinkling blue eyes under her pale red bangs. Some part of Sasha was awake enough to think ‘I know that. I already know you’._

_But the young version of herself she was spectating continued as she had done almost ten years ago. “My name is Sasha.”_

_Fondly, Sasha watched as the two girls in her dream walked into the old buildings of the school, holding up the light conversation she already knew. Everything came back to her, as they were shown their rooms and the school, the dining hall and assembly hall, where they joined the other aspiring agents to hear the first of many speeches from their headmaster._

_“Students,” he began as he always did, “we welcome you home to Utonchelovek. A place for learning and striving to reach our ambitions - your ambitions. Here, you will be taught. Here, you will learn to serve the better cause of the world. Here,” his eyes locked on Sasha, deviating the dream from reality. “You will be refined.”_

_He stood on the podium, tall and well-groomed, as his authoritative voice reached the young ears. He was lean - not skinny. Sasha remembered her initial thoughts about him. He looked as if he could choke the physical combat teacher with one hand._

_The strong man stood behind him along with some of the other teachers, reminding Sasha of the first Harry Potter movie she had seen a long time ago._

_She chuckled to herself, hoping nobody noticed her heaving chest. As she looked around the room in third-person view, she listened to the speech that had never haunted her until now._

_“Your minds will be expanded and filled with the wisdom from this academy. Your bodies will be strengthened by the challenges you will face. Your mind and body - your very being - will be trained to serve the causes of your employers to the best of your ability - which will become the best of anyone's ability. No one will be able to best you. Here you will become superior to your peers, as well as your elders.”_

_His eyes swept over the students as he spoke in a measured pace when his eyes landed on the Belarussian girl._

_She was tall for a sixteen-year-old and she stood completely still. Sasha relived the memory of her empty shell - empty from the sorrow following Alex’ death - being filled to the brim with the words from her headmaster. Words that her grandma without a doubt would be happy to hear._

_“Your lives will be devoted to this honourable work.” This time, the world surrounding her became surreal, as his black eyes landed on Sasha’s amber ones, pushing her out of her own body, as his face stretched before her eyes and pushed over all the other teens to loom over her. “Every waking and sleeping moment will belong, not to yourself, but to -”_

_As his skin became inhumanly thin and translucent, it blocked out the previous scene and changed the setting completely._

_An office. Three men, one woman, and Sasha herself. Her old headmaster, her old teacher, her new boss and one of his employees._

_“ - Mark Antonovich.” The sentence continued but from another voice. “I will be your handler, here with the SVR,” he informed. His eyes were piercingly blue. She knew, had she seen him six years earlier, where her dream started, she would have hurt from looking at them. At him. At Alex. But after six years at Utonchelovek, there was no room left in her for sorrow._

_All the space in her human shell had been filled by the voices around her. Every part of her own identity had been pushed aside to make room for the words from her superiors._

_“Right foot, left foot. Focus on your balance!”_

_“You will learn. You will be refined.”_

_“Do not show them you are afraid.”_

_“...A job offer, from the SVR…”_

_“It does not matter. Get back up. Next break is in an hour.”_

_“This is not about you. This is about what you can become. What you will become.”_

_“What will I become?” she only dared to ask in her dream, but the answer felt as real as her first day of school._

_“A piece of art and hard work, devoted to the commands of your employers,” her headmaster’s speech continued. “Your sense of self. Your sense of home. Where you belong, will always from now on, be -”_

 

Sasha didn't hear the rest. 

Her breath was short, as she sat up and looked around her with frantic movements, trying to find 

Find what? 

She felt lost, completely void of identity, when something stirred beside her. She turned in time to see Thomas yawn and rub his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked while trying to adjust his eyes to see her properly in the darkness. 

“Just… just a weird dream,” she sighed. Her breath evened out as she found her surroundings safe.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up on his elbow, preparing himself to listen for as long as necessary, but Sasha shook her head no. 

She laid back down straight on her back, but Thomas opened his arms and sent her an asking look, inviting her in. She accepted his comforting hands on her back, making her feel a little more human. A little more Sasha. 

\----------  
 _  
The next night, Sasha was once again vaguely awake as she slept._

_She saw how her physical combat teacher towered over her, as he demonstrated how to duck a punch properly. His never-ending patience was obvious, as he for the hundredths time walked Sasha through the sequence._

_“Right foot, left foot. Focus on your balance!” Isaak instructed in a deep voice from under his moustache, as he held the girl’s hands, making sure her focus was on her feet. “What good is a punch if you can’t keep yourself upright for long enough to land it,” he chastised with a glint of humour._

_Sasha saw her younger self - how old this time? Eighteen maybe? It must have been the end of her second year - draw a deep breath, before taking the two steps backwards and planting her feet solidly on the dusty ground._

_“Well done,” the huge man said. “Now, once again with hands, so I’m sure you’ve got it.” Three more times they moved back and forth blocking and throwing blows at each other, before he called on Sasha’s sparring partner, whom he had taken over for, and let the students practice fighting on one another._

_Kazimir was tough. Sasha knew that he probably wasn’t going to advance to the first row - and she knew that he knew it too. His only hope for staying at the school, and not being sent to Moscow to study the Second Row’s programme on law and political science, was if he managed to prove himself ‘extraordinarily adequate’ in enough ways to make up for the classes he was at the bottom of. Which he tried to through impressive improvements in physical combat._

_He had a hungry look in his eyes, dead set on showing off - he knew their teacher was watching him and Sasha intently, and he knew why. She was weak. And he was worried. Sasha couldn’t keep her balance. Although she kept her expressionless facade up, he knew she was easily scared. Her knees would lock and her back would stiffen, and a single gust of wind could blow her over._

_Sasha saw herself keep the determined attitude as the boy attacked her with ruthless force._

_“Right foot, left foot. Focus on your balance!” It echoed through her head, and someone said it out loud. Whether it was Sasha in the dream, or Sasha dreaming it, it seemed to help the young woman. At least for a moment._

_Her right foot moved back and found balance, as her left foot followed suit. Her left hand blocked a blow, but her right only came up level with her chin, as Kazimir’s fist collided with her temple._

_A bit of darkness fussed around her eyes before the sun and blue sky came back into her view. Isaak’s voice was heard from beside her, as his hand came to touch her shoulder, shaking her slightly to see if she was awake. It was almost real._

_“Sasha?” he asked carefully and made eye contact with the girl. He could see the frustration behind her honey-bear-brown irises, her anger, her repeated thoughts of ‘Why can’t I get it right?!’, as he helped her back up. “It does not matter. Get back up. Next break is in an hour,” he reassured, before letting Kazimir’s desperate eyes fuel her determination to beat him._

_Another set of punches blocked, another set of punches thrown. In her anger, she almost beat her partner on multiple occasions and at least avoided losing and getting another bruise on her forehead._

_“Just remember,” Isaak’s voice reached all the students. “Inflicting permanent damage on another student means being immediately expelled from this class! And if you want to advance to the First Row, I suggest you do your best to stay.” Sasha noticed how his eyes went from her bruise to the struggling Marinka’s black eye. Neither of them had been hit hard enough for their partner to be thrown out, but Isaak’s concerned eyes told them he wanted to stop the day's lesson, to prevent further injury to the two comparably weak girls._

_Sasha looked at the small girl in pity. She had no chance against her partner, who, even though she was as small as Marinka, was as tough as Kazimir._

_Sasha’s train of thought was cut off, as Kazimir saw his chance to deliver yet another punch to her face._

_“Kazimir!” shouted Isaak, who had seen it happen. Though he had to wipe his disapproving frown off his face, since the boy technically hadn’t done anything wrong. Sighing deeply, he announced to the class. “No more punches today. Everyone, grab a gun and practice immobilisation.”_

_The afternoon circled around Sasha’s head, and as she tossed around under the covers, she was simultaneously being tossed around the field, eight years earlier._

_Kazimir and Sasha fought to get hold of the fake red gun. The brightly coloured plastic block was only in the rough shape of a semi-automatic pistol, and though it was lighter than an actual handgun, it was enough to really set the scene for the show-off boy._

_He didn’t wait for her to make eye contact and nod to say ‘ready’, no, he immediately tried to grab it from her hands, without warning._

_Of course, in real life, an enemy wouldn’t wait for you to be ready to fight back. An odd thought to find comfort it, but already back then, Sasha was used to finding it in odd places._

_This time, she was ready when Kazimir attacked - it only took her so many hits to learn he wasn’t a very forgiving sparring partner - and she simply raised her arm above her head. They were about the same height, but Sasha’s arms were longer. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Isaak, who stood across the field, smirk at her slight but clever insult. They shared a second of amusement until a deep pain hit her solar plexus. She dropped the gun and curled up around her stomach, and Kazimir’s elbow, which was deeply lodged in her middle. He pulled back and picked up the gun triumphantly, but before Isaak could remind him of the no-punches-while-immobilising rule, Sasha was on the boy’s back._

_She rolled over him and grabbed his shoulder to drag him with her. 360 degrees later, he was splayed out on the ground underneath her, and she had his wrist in an iron grip. Her nails dug into his tender skin, forcing him to drop the weapon with a hiss, before she picked it up, hoping she hadn’t drawn blood from the deserving boy. Her left hand pressed down with harsh force between his shoulder blades to keep him in place as she stood. She took a step back and looked at him with a sigh, waiting for him to stand up and take another swing at her, when she noticed she small bit of red under two of her fingernails, which was undoubtedly blood from Kazimir’s wrist._

_Fuck._

_“You bitch!” Kazimir screamed and raced the soundwaves to reach her face and ears, on the side of which he promptly smacked a flat palm, making her skin instantly burn. Isaak heard him, but he was all the way across the yard, taking care of Marinka - she had managed to get hit across the other eye, which would be as black and swollen as its mate by dinner._

_Even though Sasha had frozen like a deer in the headlights of a speeding truck, she stood her ground and held on to the gun. But as he pushed her like a bully on a playground, she fell backwards and dropped the plastic toy to ease the impact of the fall with her hands. For some reason, she still felt frozen, as he kicked her onto first her side, and then her stomach, from where he grabbed her upper arm in one hand, and the gun in the other, and pulled her back up._

_He made quick work of wrapping his arm around her throat and hoisting her up against his chest with her chin on his elbow, as Isaak got over to them. Their peers had stopped in their tracks, after seeing Kazimir’s and Sasha’s matching bloody noses - the trauma from being pushed into the ground and being slapped across the face had set in and sent blood flowing down their dirty faces._

_There was genuine anger in Kazimir’s body, as he threateningly held the gun to Sasha’s head._

_She knew how this episode had ended in real life - Kazimir had let go of her after a stern look from Isaak, and the lesson had been cut short. But like the other night, her subconscious didn’t follow along with reality._

_The deadly look on Isaak’s face was the same, but as Kazimir dropped her and she fell to her knees, the plot diverged from reality, when suddenly, the toy gun became real, and a different teacher’s voice reverberated in her head._

_“You are failing, Koskina,” the voice announced, and Sasha didn’t get a chance to beg before the trigger was pulled, and the sound of the explosion forcing the bullet through her skull, and the feeling of her limp body being shaken to the ground, woke her up.  
_

 

She gasped for air and tried to fight off the hands that held on tightly to her, until his voice finally reached her ears. 

“Sasha! Sasha, you’re safe, I’ve got you. It’s just a nightmare.” Thomas was shaking her gently. Once he felt her realise she was awake and that he didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t wait for her to answer - he didn’t even waste time asking if he could hold her - he just took her into his arms and rocked her back and forth, as she wiped the few tears she had shed from her face and steadied her breathing. 

Even as she went still and fell back asleep, he kept her in his arms, and as he felt himself drifting back to a state of rest, he decided to keep the girl as she was in his lap, even if it meant sitting up for the rest of the night, and waking up with a sore back. Even if he would end up sitting with a hunch at work, it would be worth it for this girl. This girl, who had been so strong when he met her. This girl, whose own subconsciousness seemed to be breaking her down from within. 

\----------  
 _  
One night later, Sasha was spectating her younger self for the third night in a row. Her twenty-year-old self was on the floor, stretching, after her second two-hour ballet lesson of the week. Her teacher had been after her the whole time, but for good reason. She couldn’t seem to relax her movements, looking stiff as she placed heavy steps in her dainty slippers. Thank god pointe shoes were optional, until the Elite - and when she got there, she looked forward to swapping the mandatory First Row ballet out for some other artistic elective._

_If, of course, she made it to the Elite. Twenty four students had arrived at the school four years ago. Since then, they had been boiled down to sixteen, when the eight lowest performing students, including Kazimir, had been weeded out. Now, the final elimination remained, which would determine who deserved to become one of the Elite, and who would end up staying behind in the First Row._

_Sasha finished stretching and grabbed her bag, when her headmaster, who had been quietly chatting with her ballet instructor, stopped her in the doorway to the classroom._

_“Koshkina, please, come to my office in half an hour.” The order was smoothly delivered and understood, and Sasha blended back into the stream of students heading for the showers._

_Half an hour and a short bath later, she found herself sitting by the principal’s table, surrounded by teachers._

_“Koshkina,” he began in his void voice. “As you know, the selection of the Elite students is underway.”_

_Of course she knew. It was on everyone’s mind! She just nodded._

_“Most of the picture is clear so far, but a few students in the middle, are causing us trouble in our evaluations. Including you.”_

_She was cold. She didn’t want to be surprised by his statement, but she hadn’t dared to fear not advancing to the Elite. And now he was telling her she was on the knife’s edge? All she could do was remember Isaak’s words, “do not show them you are afraid.”_

_He looked down at the file before him, full of her grades and performance appraisals. “You are the top of the class in forensics and English, and you have greatly improved in physical combat since Second Row,” Sasha could feel Isaak smile behind her. “But you seem to have lost interest in maths and sociology.” His flat, black eyes were back on hers when he made her shiver. “And you are failing ballet.”_

_This time Sasha felt how her strict instructor took a degrading look at her - how her crow eyes dug into her, making her finally feel fearful. She swallowed and nodded, not knowing how to answer, and hoped her headmaster would both keep and stop talking._

_“Which is why we have prepared… a test, of sorts.” His hesitation told Sasha he hadn’t had time to rehearse. “To make it clearer how you perform compared to your peers.” He pulled out a new file. A notebook full of numbers. “You will be given a sequence of numbers,” he explained, “and before the week is over, you will have delivered the combination safely - and verbally - to your maths teacher. But, be aware that the other two students in question have also been given a task. And to give them a fair chance in this challenge, the combination must be delivered during class when everyone is present, and you will not speak with your teacher privately. Know, that if they figure out the combination, they will be ahead of you. But if you manage to sabotage their task, you will be ahead of them. Report to your maths teacher.”_

_The instructions were clear, but they still left her head spinning. A code, she repeated to herself, to be passed on to my maths teacher, without my peers figuring it out, while figuring out theirs. A play-pretend of real life missions._

_Her teacher, who taught Sasha both science, maths and forensics, spoke up once she nodded, approving that she understood. “I will not know the code, so be clear in your delivery. If I can not successfully repeat it here by next week, you will have failed,” the short man spoke harshly - a voice all her teachers seemed to have taken on once the selection began. They slowly all walked out of the office, except for Isaak and her principal._

_The door closed behind them, which the thinner man took as his cue to give Sasha the combination. A small piece of paper with six digits was slid over the old table._

_23-98-11_

_Sasha took the label in her hands and repeated internally. “Twenty-three, ninety-eight, eleven.” Once she was sure she could remember it, she gave it back to her headmaster, who lit a match and burned it._

_“I would wish you good luck, but if luck is what you rely on, then you should not be here.” His eyes were as cold as his voice as he dismissed the girl and let her go about the rest of her day._

_Much to Sasha’s annoyance, every single student was called into a conference with the teachers and headmaster. Two of them would have been like hers, but the remaining thirteen were obviously just held to make the challenge harder._

_Four days in, with three days remaining, Sasha desperately looked around her classroom. Another math lesson but still no clue as to what other students were in her situation. She tried to keep her frustration at bay as she looked for clues in her classmates’ demeanours, when she made eye contact with Siyan, a boy with a knack for mathematics. He was probably going to pass to the Elite, Sasha thought, as her eyes moved on and landed on Natalia. She was passing as well, Sasha knew for a fact. She was top of ballet, and had given countless students black eyes and blue bruises in physical combat. And her English was flawless._

_For a moment, Sasha feared she was the only student who wouldn’t pass. An insane thought, given the nature of the selection, and some of her classmates' skills. But the feeling of failure overwhelmed her, making her breath shallow in both her memory, and asleep in her bed next to Thomas._

_Before the fear became unbearable, her eyes landed on Marinka, looking small as she sat in her seat, tapping her fingers quietly on her chair. The small red scarf she wore around her neck was barely bigger than a ribbon, but it mesmerised Sasha, and she didn’t hear when her teacher asked her a question._

_“...Sasha!” His voice bit as he tried to establish contact with the girl, who frantically scrambled to find an answer._

_“Uh, eleven,” she said, after a short glance at the blackboard. She knew it was wrong, but by now, all she had said to her teacher since the meeting was twenty-three, ninety-eight, and eleven. This concluded her third repeat of the combination, and she dwelled in the feeling of safety, knowing that she could expect her teacher to have picked it up. There was no way in hell she would repeat it again, the other two would figure her out as surely as church on a Sunday. If only she could realize who they were…_

_She spent the rest of the lesson worrying and trying with desperate glances to figure out who else could be conveying codes, but left the room disappointed._

_Scared, she went to dinner, where she ate in silence, still staring at Marinka’s new accessory with mesmerised eyes. Something about it was strange, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Only by nighttime, when she was in the washroom brushing her teeth, she noticed it again. This time, it was tied around Marinka’s skinny thigh, and just peeking out from under her short, white nightgown. Why on earth was Marinka so protective of it that she wore it to bed? Could it be, that she had to deliver a token and not a code? She did her best not to stare as she finished brushing her teeth and bid the other girls goodnight, before heading to her small room, where the darkness enveloped her, and her thoughts filled her up._

_The next day, Marinka was wearing the scarf around her neck again, making Sasha surer in her speculations. What if all three had been given different tasks? Her headmaster never said they had been given the same… Her thoughts were calmer and relaxed this lesson, as she stopped desperately trying to make sense of her classmates’ answers. Instead, she noticed how Marinka stared at everyone, something the otherwise shy girl hated. She stared like she was looking for something. Another scarf perhaps? Sasha didn’t get more time to think as the bell rang and sent the students out of the room. In the hallway, Siyan stopped her._

_“Can I talk to you?” he asked, and when she nodded, he led her to a broom closet, checking that no one followed them. In the dim light, he broke the silence, as well as Sasha’s worries, while rising completely new ones. “I know you’re also being challenged. I know your task, and I know your answer.”_

_The power of her fear kept her from smiling as she triumphantly counted his mistakes inside her head. One, telling her he was being challenged. Two, letting her know they had been given different tasks - why else would he mention it as “hers”? He confirmed her assumption about Marinka. If he was right, Sasha had wasted her time assuming the others had been given codes as well. But although she knew who her fellow unsafe students were, Siyan had figured her out, pushing her further into the danger zone._

_Just in time to save Sasha from anxiety, Siyan continued. “If you tell me who the third of us is, I will wait to report you until the last day,” he promised, but Sasha knew better than to let go of the only information she was sure he didn’t know._

_“I don’t know who the other one is,” she lied with a desperate expression, although her mind was locked on Marinka’s scarf._

_Siyan brows furrowed with darkness at the disappointment from his new enemy. “Twenty-three, ninety-eight, eleven,” he hissed, before pushing the door open and leaving an equally scared and triumphant Sasha in the closet. Now the real challenge began._

_There was no way she could stop Siyan from telling their teacher, without giving him a different advantage. But how had he known to look for a different challenge than his own? What was his challenge? Thoughts ground around Sasha’s head as she walked to the gym. The pool the school had, offered her a chance to meticulously grind back and forth in a mindless pattern of breath strokes, leaving her head with space to think._

_After a couple of laps back and forth in the pool that reminded her of the lake back home, she settled on what seemed like the best solution to her. Exposing Marinka would let Siyan know she had lied, and tell him Marinka was the student he was looking for, however, waiting until the last minute would give both of them time to figure each other - and in Marinka’s case, also Sasha - out. With determination flooding her bloodstream, she went to dinner, where she did her best to stop staring at the bright red and silky target being waved right in front of her._

_There was no way she was getting the scarf while Marinka was awake, so late at night, she snuck through the door to the short girl’s chamber. It was almost identical to her own. A small room with an old door and old decorative windows overviewing the yard two stories down. The buildings were as beautiful as when they were first built, at least a hundred years earlier, and definitely with another purpose._

_For the third night in a row, Sasha was spectating her own actions. The girl in her dream trod carefully over the creaky floorboards without making a sound. She knew how to get to Marinka’s room after lights-out without getting caught - it had started after both girls had been beaten to a pulp by Kazimir and Natalia two years earlier, and Marinka’s sorrowful and black, swollen eyes, had made Sasha’s anger wash away for pity. She had comforted the redhead and found her own comfort in doing so. So for many nights to come, the girls would sit up late in each others’ rooms, keeping the other one company._

_The contrast between those old meetings and this one made Sasha’s head spin, as she lifted the covers from the sleeping form beneath them. The twenty-year-olds were both in short, white nightgowns they had bought together an afternoon in a nearby town. Marinka’s hem had risen as she slept, and revealed the bright red scarf Sasha was looking for. Once again, it was tied around her upper thigh. Without waking her friend, Sasha managed to pry the knot open and slide the fabric out from between Marinka’s ballet-lean thighs, making the sleeping girl moan._

_Sasha stared at her, as the sweet sound resonated in her ears. She saw how sweetly her thighs curved and met her ass, barely covered by the white shirt. She stopped herself from dwelling and snuck back to her room as silently as she had left it._

_The next morning, determination won over fear, as Sasha walked to her first lesson - maths. Outside the door to the classroom, Siyan stopped her again._

_“Last chance, Koshkina,” he tried to intimidate her, “who is the last student?”_

_Though his sneer was sinister, Sasha stood her ground and kept her stoic, blank expression. “I don’t know.” She pushed past the boy and entered the classroom, becoming the second to last student to enter._

_A quick glance around the room, and she spotted Marinka. Sasha had left the dorms early to swim and hadn't heard or seen Marinka’s panic. But now, it still lingered in the short girl’s eyes. They met Sasha’s, just as she approached their teacher and fished the scarf out of her pocket._

_Marinka was livid, Sasha could tell from the way she drew in her breath to the top of her lungs, making her seem taller and bigger than what she actually was. A quick glance behind her and Sasha knew Siyan was as pissed as Marinka. Hell had broken loose._

_The best she could do regarding Siyan was to make a wild guess, before he got the chance to tell on her, so she locked eyes with her science and maths teacher and told on her peers first. “Marinka’s scarf.” She handed him the trinket. “Siyan is the third student, desperate to know Marinka’s challenge, as well as mine.” She put it vaguely enough, that was she (god forbid) wrong about Siyan’s challenge, her teacher wouldn’t know her attempt at guessing it._

_Her short teacher stood still with the same cold, unmoving expression as Sasha. A million thoughts could have flooded her mind - am I right? Is he impressed? Disappointed? Amused? - but none came. She was as blank as her headmaster’s eyes, and once her teacher nodded some kind of acknowledgement, the only thing she could focus on was his teachings. For the first time in months, she could actually spare her interest and concentration for the equations being explained on the blackboard._

_Unfortunately, her newfound interest in the more mundane aspects of her every day became her Achilles heel, as she didn’t notice any more of Marinka’s and Siyan’s continuously growing hatred and fear. Only after lunch, when she left her last lesson of the day, she realised something was off._

_That slight flinch based on the smallest impulse of ‘something is wrong’, flashed through her mind. In hindsight, it reminded her of the day her mother returned without Alex. The moment she spotted the car, she knew, she just inexplicably knew, that she had seen her brother for the last time. And now, as she walked down the big hallway, she just knew something was going to happen._

_When something hard hit her in the back of the head and she fell forward, the smallest, most absurd corner of her mind felt a slight bit of triumph from being right in the assumption that someone was out to get her, but once she picked herself up from the cold floor and realised she was bleeding from her nose, reality set in._

_Marinka had pushed Sasha forward with the assistance of her heavy school bag, and while Sasha scrambled on the floor, she dug through her books and found her ballet shoes - The times Sasha spent in the gym or the pool training strength and endurance, she was practising dancing in the though pointe shoes - she returned to Sasha when she had pushed herself up to her knees, only for Marinka to push her back down._

_She kicked power back into Sasha, who thought quickly and flipped around, grabbing Marinka’s leg in the hopes of making her fall over._

_But the skilled dancer’s balance didn’t fail, and Marinka stayed on top. She straddled Sasha and pushed her shoulders back to smack her palm on the side of Sasha’s face, smudging blood on her hand. “Where is it?” she hissed._

_“I don’t have anything,” Sasha said truthfully. Marinka apparently hadn’t realised Sasha didn’t also have a trinket to be retrieved. That was a good thing, right?_

_Marinka hit her again, harder, across the other cheek. The splatter of blood being pushed from Sasha’s nose was audible as it hit the smooth floor._

_So, no. It was not a good thing, if it meant Marinka would beat her until she found the non-existent trinket._

_Of course, the tiny girl was no match for Sasha, who was much taller and stronger, if only Sasha hadn’t had a soft spot for those bright blue eyes under the pale red bangs. She could never bring herself to harm them, or the person behind them. Not after years of telling them stories and singing them to sleep. Not after years of holding their hands on their way to church. Not after all the Sundays she had brought wine-soaked bread home from service._

_And though Marinka wasn’t Alex, it still stung to see those painfully similar ice blue eyes water._

_Get it together! She shouted internally and reminded herself of her grandma's words. “Make me proud.” She wrestled her hand free and smacked Marinka back, buying herself a second to push off the ballerina. A small crowd had gathered around them. Out of the corner of her eye, Sasha saw their horrified and excited faces - and Siyan, walking towards the battleground, next to their maths teacher. Without a doubt, he had told him the code after seeing Sasha had lied to him. Spitefully, Sasha pushed herself off of the ground and wiped her bloody nose on the back of her hand. She stared down Marinka, who had regained her balance as well._

_“What is your token?!” she screamed as she launched herself at Sasha again, pushing her against the wall._

_Something hit wrong. Some kind of nerve must had been pressed. The back of her skull felt crushed and only held together by her skin and flesh. Sasha felt herself go numb and fall to the ground, limp like a corpse but awake like a newborn._

_Marinka kicked her in the stomach, just under her ribcage, making her cough up blood. Vaguely, Sasha heard someone ask their teacher, “shouldn’t you do something?”, to which he answered with a regretful sigh:_

_“This is a part of a narrowed selection process. I can’t interfere. Get your headmaster.”_

_That was all Sasha heard, before Marinka’s hands grabbed her and made her sit up straight against the wall. She straddled Sasha’s lap with a hard pointe shoe in her hand. Sasha’s suddenly weirdly weak arms tried to push her off, but her touch was barely a gentle nudge against her old friends middle._

_Marinka swatted her hands away coldly and pressed the silk-clad wooden block into the sore spot under Sasha’s right lung, where she had kicked before. “Where. Is. It.” she sneered through gritted teeth._

_Sasha couldn’t answer - she could barely move! - but she could see the faces of the people around her, all in shock that the small Marinka almost knocked Sasha out. All except one, Siyan, who stood in the background with a hungry, yet satisfied expression._

_And Marinka. Small, sensitive, smart Marinka, suddenly looked fierce and dangerous to her peers. Except for to Sasha, who could hear the grains in her voice and see the tears in her eyes as she pleaded “Please Sasha. Please,” while shoving the shoe in deeper._

_Somewhere, someone around them whispered, and Marinka picked up on a fragment of a sentence: ...principal is coming…_

_Frantically, she gave the shoe a last push, making Sasha groan in pain. “Please Sasha, now! NOW!” Her voice went from quiet to shouting, waking Sasha just a little bit._

_Sasha felt her tears of pain run down her cheeks and mix with the blood from her nose and mouth, as Marinka finally let go of the shoe. Sasha wondered why the girl hesitated to make her next move, but when she finally moved along, Sasha understood why she had paused._

_Marinka put her hands under Sasha’s shirt._

_Startled in a whole new way, Sasha’s mad eyes pierced Marinka’s desperate ones._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered and averted her shameful eyes, as she began rummaging her hands around under Sasha shirt, feeling and searching for something that wasn’t there._

_Now Sasha grew frantic. She felt her pupils dilate in, what, fear? and moved a shaking hand up to cover her mouth in shock. Her pale fingers hit her teary cheek, but when her hand came past her eyes, she saw blood. Yet again, a new fear filled her, and she frantically tapped under her eyes to find out what she dreaded. The blunt trauma to her head had made blood run from her eyes, along with tears. Oh, what a sight they must have been. Marinka brushing her intruding hands over Sasha’s chest, where the blood and tears streaming from Sasha’s face landed._

_Sasha panicked. Her breath grew short and became a constant shift between gasps for air and sobbing exhales, while Marinka laid her down on the floor. The rush of blood to her head was unbearable, and she tried to put her hands on Marinka’s in an effort to stop her._

_But Marinka moved them herself, but only to start patting down Sasha’s legs instead. Clad in skinny jeans, it was easy to feel any lump that shouldn’t be there, but when she found none, Marinka began shaking as much as Sasha. “Please, don’t say you…” she pleaded. “Don’t make me…” her voice was swallowed by grains and wavers, but Sasha couldn't answer. She just cried and shook her head, watching as Marinka’s hands found the zipper and opened her pants._

_“Don’t,” Sasha managed to beg, but Marinka, although she was also crying by now, didn’t listen. “DON’T!” Sasha begged again in a loud sob, as Marinka’s fingers snaked their way to her centre. “No! NO!” she screamed and tried to thrash her limp body around and away from Marinka, as she pushed her fingers in._

_Tears were streaming down Marinka’s face as she abused her best friends’ trust and body, in a desperate attempt at winning some dumb contest, but as she found nothing, anger took over one last time. She was done. She was ready to pick up and leave. This bullshit wasn’t worth it. Sasha crying and begging for mercy in her barely mobile body wasn’t worth it._

_At the peak of the chaos, their principal finally arrived with the student who fetched him, the two school nurses with a stretcher, and a few other teachers. In a measured and authoritative voice, he silenced the crowd, except for Sasha’s sobs. “Students. The selection is done. Marinka Yavorska, Siyan Georgiy, you will both stay in the First Row. Sasha Koshkina, you will proceed to the Elite. The rest of you will be told at assembly tonight.” The message was smoothly delivered, but not equally well accepted._

_Siyan was in a rage. He walked to Sasha and kicked her in the stomach, making her cough up another spurt of blood._

_Marinka was crushed, but once she saw Siyan’s disrespectful behaviour, rage filled her again. She spun him around and smacked him across the face, before pushing him against the wall and taking her anger out on him. Her anger towards herself, him, Sasha, the game, all of it._

_And Sasha barely heard her headmaster’s words. But as she registered them, another flow of bloody tears streamed down the sides of her face to her ears. There was no joy, no pride in having won. There was only the pain in her head and stomach, and an empty spot in her heart, about the size of Marinka’s intruding fingers. She barely felt it, as the nurses lifted her on to the stretcher, the soft pillow giving her skull heavenly relief. The last thing she registered as she was lifted up and carried away, was Isaak wrapping his strong arms around Marinka to stop her from tearing Siyan apart. The small girl's voice was louder than sirens, as she called out after her friend, voice and eyes full of tears._

_“Sasha! SASHA!”  
_

 

“Sasha!” Thomas’ voice had a hint of worry, as he finally woke her up. 

Tears were streaming from her eyes, and she was sobbing loudly. She was in his arms, being held close to his chest. 

“Oh god, Sasha. I couldn’t wake you up.” He rested his head on hers as he whispered. “You’re safe, Sasha. I’ve got you.” He knew she believed her, as she, for the first time, cried and sobbed her heart and nightmare out in his arms.


	13. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas gets his beloved softness out and Sasha gets her praise kink fed. Yay! 
> 
> If y’all are lactose intolerant you better take your pills because this is getting cheesy.

“Sasha! Sasha, you’re safe, I’ve got you. It’s just a nightmare.” Thomas was shaking her gently. Once he felt her realise she was awake, he didn’t wait for her to answer - he didn’t even waste time asking if he could hold her - he just took her into his arms and rocked her back and forth, as she wiped the few tears she had shed from her face and steadied her breathing. 

Even as she went still and fell back asleep, he kept her in his arms, and as he felt himself drifting back to a state of rest, he decided to keep the girl as she was in his lap, even if it meant sitting up for the rest of the night, and waking up with a sore back. Even if he would end up sitting with a hunch at work, it would be worth it for this girl. This girl, who had been so strong when he met her. This girl, whose own subconscious seemed to be breaking her down from within. 

The feeling of pity and worry filled his chest, which she was gently leaning on, and his mind was full of thoughts. Where did this worry come from? A worry that hurt him? Was this…? 

Oh god. 

Thomas wasn’t one to be scared of love, but he knew Sasha would disapprove of any such emotion from him to her. And Judy, what would she think? How would it affect the mission? No, these feelings had to wait. The realisation, assessment of the situation and the conclusion came in quick succession, thanks to years of practice in fast-paced problem-solving. Thomas knew waiting would be best. 

So that’s what Thomas did. He waited. He meant to wait and see if the emotions disappeared on their own, or to wait the mission out and confront Sasha afterwards. But already the next night, her fearfully furrowed brows cut in his heart, as her cries cut his ears. Who hurt her? Who was haunting her? He wanted nothing more than to see her happy. See her know she was safe. So he cut his potentially eternal waiting down to six or seven hours, to the next morning, after sitting with the weeping girl in his arms for the better part of the third night in a row. 

Now, they were cosily moving around their kitchen, making tea and a snack, when Thomas burst the bubble of fear holding him back from confessing his feelings to Sasha. 

“Sasha, there’s something I need you to know. Something I need to get off my chest,” he tried. A weird knot was in his chest, making him nervous, and the blank expression Sasha wore didn’t help him. Finally, he just blurted: “I think I’m developing feelings for you.” 

He had thought her expression couldn’t become any more blank and untelling, but she managed to put him at such a loss of ideas, as towards what she was thinking, as she widened her eyes and turned her back to him to stir honey in her tea. 

Slowly, she nodded her acknowledgement. And even slower, she managed to mumble a “Yes. Yes, okay.” 

Their awkward conversation was akin to their fumbly ramblings on their first morning together, and Thomas did as they had done then. Spoke quickly out of his mind. 

“I hope you’re not mad at me for having them. Or for telling you. I just had to…” he tried to explain himself, hoping that she would offer a more giving answer. 

“No, no…” she began slowly and stared at empty points as she turned back around to face him. “I was just thinking… of how to respond.” Her eyes were locked on the floor, much to Thomas’ unnerving. Eventually, after a few moments of deep thoughts, she looked up at him and began telling a story, with no details reserved for secrecy. “I was once on a mission, where a fellow operative confessed the very same statement to me, as you just did. I told them…” she paused for a moment. “That it was great. That our real emotions would strengthen the illusion of the couple we were portraying. But, I didn’t feel anything for him. And once the mission was over, I broke his heart.” She was looking down again but forced her eyes to meet Thomas’ as she continued. “I couldn’t risk the mission’s integrity by breaking his heart immediately. And afterwards, his heartbreak wasn’t my problem.” Her face was apologetic as she laid out the story to Thomas. 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, not knowing what to expect, but definitely knowing what to hope and what to fear for. 

Sasha hesitated and averted her eyes, looking out the kitchen window. “Because I don’t want to break your heart. I want you to know that I could lie, what the lie would look like, and most of all, that I’m not lying. You make me feel…” Her voice was smaller than ever, as she confessed emotions Thomas had a feeling she hadn’t confessed before - maybe even felt. “...good.” She nodded to herself, yeah, good was probably the best word for this feeling. 

Thomas had figured her out, and her confusion and hesitation were cute to him. Teasingly, he pretended to doubt her statement. “You could be double bluffing.” 

Her eyes betrayed her feeling of hurt, but only until they landed on his joking expression. “I’m not, Thomas!” she insisted with worried brows. “I feel… close… to you. And, I think… I think I like it…” 

Thomas moved closer to the fierce girl, whose stern demeanour had dissolved over the last few months. He put a hand on her cheek, making her thoughtful eyes meet his. 

Although his gaze was blue as ice, it still melted Sasha’s worries, with the help of the warm hand on her pale cheek. The sincere safety Thomas gave her surrounded her, as it had always done, allowing her to let down her defences and accept the softness he emitted, as well as giving him hers in return. Though she liked this new territory of openness, it terrified her as well, and when Thomas leaned in and kissed her lips, she broke away before she lingered by his gentle skin for too long, and put a hand up between her and her lover. 

“But!” she began, “We can’t let this get in the way of the mission. For now, we can only let any… feelings… strengthen Tammy and William. Sasha and Thomas will have to wait.” 

The business-minded Sasha Thomas knew was back with her worries. “Of course,” he reassured her of their top priority. Though he craved her skin against his, he knew of her internal push and pull of well-known work focus, and new, unguarded personal closure. Despite wishing to kiss her pretty lips, he simply smiled a simple smile and nodded carefully. 

Feeling awkward, Sasha took her teacup and went to sit by the small table where they enjoyed most of their meals together. “So, what are you doing today?” she asked, and the domesticity of the scenario was suddenly overwhelming. 

Thomas sat down across from her with his mug. “I have a meeting at twelve. I’m taking over finance managing for the hospital.” 

“Arbor Pharma has a hospital?” Sasha asked, surprised by the new information. 

“Yeah, I think it’s a small clinic by the research lab. I haven’t heard much about it,” he confessed. 

“Well, if you have to be there at twelve, that leaves us with and our and a half to ourselves.” 

“What do you reckon we do with that time?” 

Sasha smirked and assessed the man across from her. How the top button of his semi-open shirt was desperately trying to keep his pecs covered. His beautifully sculpted pecs, she had the pleasure of seeing often enough to knew exactly how they looked, making mentally undressing him a whole lot easier. “I know I said some things have to wait, but…” she was biting her lips. “You know, I’m not exactly patient…” 

Thomas hummed in lustful approval, and his eyes grew dark. “I do know…” he said, and let his eyes wander over her, taking in as much as they could get. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” she teased. 

Thomas raised his brows cockily. “I’m going to wait.” And so he sat back, sipped his tea, looked at the beautiful woman, picked up his newspaper, and waited. 

Sasha couldn’t imagine her own facial expression, but she sure did admire Thomas for not breaking into a fit of laughter - the way her eyes widened and she blinked in disbelief must have been comical. An impressed smile spread across her face. “So, we’re playing games, are we? Are you,” she hesitated in disbelief, “testing my patience?” 

Thomas didn’t answer. He just glanced shortly at her, as he looked up from the newspaper to sip his tea. 

Sasha bit her lip. What was he doing to her? She rose to fetch a small snack to distract herself, but Thomas stopped her. 

“Ah-ah,” he chastised, stopping her in her tracks. 

“Hmm?” 

“Stay in your seat. Patience, remember.” He had pried his eyes from the papers to deliver the command, and once Sasha was in her spot again, he nodded. “Good girl.” He turned his eyes back to the papers, but the tiniest squeak from the old chair the girl was sitting on, made him know she was squirming in her seat. He looked up again and measured her with his eyes. She was sitting with her hands on the middle of the edge of the chair, between her knees, and her eyes were on his, looking almost desperate for his attention. Good, he thought and turned his eyes back to the papers. “Do you like it when I call you a good girl?” he asked, while not sparing a single drop of attention to her. 

Her voice was smaller than usual when she answered, “yes, Sir.” 

Thomas hummed behind the papers and praised her again. “Good girl. I’m glad to hear that.” As he had expected, there was another small squeak from her chair as she tried to settle something within herself. She did her best to sit still, he could tell, but as the minutes passed by, she grew restless and began wiggling in her seat. Thomas noticed, but decided to let it slide, until he heard a tiny whimper escape her lips. “Be quiet,” he ordered matter-of-factly without taking his eyes from the papers. 

Internally, Sasha was screaming in playful frustration. “Pay attention to me!” she begged without a sound, not wanting to disturb the concentrating man sitting across from her. She sat patiently at his command, taking in the view of him. How his long, lean and strong fingers held onto the newspaper and stroked the pages as he turned them, in a manner that, in Sasha’s current state of mind, was straight up obscene. With every slow turn of a page, Sasha wished more and more to take the place of the paper and being the one feeling Thomas’ soft fingertips brushing over her skin. 

Finally, he turned over the last page and finished his tea while reading the small feature concerning the Wimbledon finals, put the newspaper down and looked at his wife with a deep appraisal. When he rose and went to stand beside her, she didn’t move an inch, other than hitching her breath. He put his finger under her chin and made her stand, looking into her eyes and finding some kind of need lurking behind the warm brown shield of her irises. Bending down to speak in her ear, he whispered. “You have been such a good girl for me, sitting quietly while I finished my paper.” 

Her answer was something in between an agreeing “mhmm”, and a sex-dripping moan. As he stood with his chest against hers, Thomas could feel her tightening up involuntarily. 

“Would you like a reward, lovely?” His tender voice nudged against her, and she nodded rapidly. 

“Yes. Yes, Sir, I would like that,” she rambled. 

“Mmm, good girl. Let’s go upstairs,” he hummed and brushed his nose and lips against her cheek, giving her just a fraction of the physical touch she craved. 

She pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck, her favourite spot to hide and rest, as Thomas tried to move towards the stairs. As much as Sasha wanted to rush with him, walking would mean pulling herself from his warm form, which provided her with safety, stability and endless lust. 

Halfway out the kitchen, Thomas realised there was no point in hoping she would cooperate in ascending to their bedroom, so instead, he picked her up and held her close, and carried her there himself. 

Her strong legs were still wrapped tightly around his middle when he placed her down on their bed. He held himself up on his hands and knees, looming over her, as she slowly brushed her hands over his shirt while looking at him with the softest admiration as if he was a piece of art, carefully being inspected. He let her take her time, as she undressed him, button by button. 

“I like to be close to you,” she said in a low voice, as she pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and drew him back into her arms. 

Thomas put a hand behind her head and held her still to place a steady kiss to her wanting lips. “I love being close to you too, Darling. You feel amazing.” 

The warmth that spread throughout her body from this chest and lips softened her muscles, and the words that escaped his mouth between kisses softened her mind. “I want to be good for you.” She almost sounded pleading as Thomas pulled away to strip down to his skin, revealing his toned muscles and impressive cock. 

He climbed back on the bed and sat with his back against the headboard, and let Sasha crawl into his lap. Placing a kiss to her temple, he praised her in a murmur: “You’re always so good for me,” he gave her another kiss and continued, “my good girl. Stand up and strip for me, Darling.” 

Sasha felt downright needy for his attention and praise, so she jumped off the bed eagerly and grabbed the hem of Tammy’s artsy and colourful nightgown. 

“Slowly,” Thomas interrupted and brought Sasha’s focus from her wishful dreaming to the task at hand. 

Slowly, as he had asked her to, she pushed up the silky fabric, dragging it over her thighs and hips, following the lines of her body. The hungry look in her lover’s eyes was pure motivation to continue her sensual tease. 

Thomas had his cock in his hand, stroking it as patiently as Sasha stripped while giving her occasional soft encouragements. “Just like that, Sasha.” 

The gown went over her head, exposing her breasts to Thomas, whose excitement rose with his cock at the view. Smiling, full of self-confidence, Sasha swayed her hips and shuffled off her soft undies, baring herself completely and walking back to the patient man she shared her bed with. 

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised again and wrapped his long arms around her. He held her with steady strength, as he twisted around to place her down on the soft bed. 

The words sung sweetly in her ears and sent electricity through her body, just under her skin, on which Thomas was trailing soft patterns with his lips and fingertips. 

The pads of his index finger traced a path from her nipple to her navel and further down to her sex. While he rubbed her clit through the smooth slick of her arousal, he placed the head of his cock by her entrance and pushed in. He bent down to shield her chest from non-existent danger and feel her heaving breath escaping from her lips in moans. 

Sasha felt herself let go, but she didn’t know of what. Not that it mattered. With every thrust of their synced hips, her mind was wiped clear and she could see, even with her eyes closed in pleasure. She could see this was right. This was _good_. She was good, a good girl for Thomas and good _to_ herself. He was good to her. Absently, she felt him place wet kisses down her jaw and neck. And without breaking her trancelike state of mind, she lead her lips to his. 

His groans were in beautiful harmony with her moans, all soft and low like a hummed melody, the rhythm set by their deep breaths and fluid movements. Movements and rhythms that drove Sasha to the edge, with their spot-hitting and satisfying intensity. 

Thomas’ warmth enveloped her along with his words. 

“You feel amazing, Sasha,” he managed between moans. 

She didn’t have the mental capacity to respond, as one of his palms came to cover one of her breasts. His hand joined the rhythm their bodies already set. The pumping of the base, the beat of their hearts and the sweet tunes of Thomas’ praise finally pushed her over. With her legs wrapped tightly around him, and her arms following suit, she came against his warm body. The last remaining woke part of her brain could feel Thomas do the same and pick up on how his warm seed filled her. Her mind gave out and gave her over to the man whose love she felt stronger than her own fears. 

Coming down from their high, Thomas could feel her relax in ways she hadn’t before. That total joy relaxing her stressed and tense muscles. The calm look on her face was true beauty, one he wished to cherish and protect. 

Sasha’s tired mind picked up on how Thomas laid down next to her, after covering her nude body with their duvet. “But… work?” she asked, feel weirdly dissolved. 

“Not yet,” he assured her. “I’ll stay until you sleep. You need some rest.” Thinking on the three previous nights, they both knew he was right, and Sasha nuzzled her forehead into his chest and protective hold, where she rested until sleep took her away from consciousness. 

On the brink of sleeping, Sasha felt a conscious thought, one she wouldn’t forget for many years, if ever. Thomas was good. And so was she. 

When she finally slept, Thomas looked at the time. He really should get out of bed and freshen up for work. As he walked through their bedroom after a quick shower and saw his sleeping beauty actually sleeping, a thought touched his mind. Sasha was worth waiting for, but no wait was worth Sasha. He went on to put on a suit, before kissing her forehead goodbye for the day, and went to work with newfound peace and confidence, knowing she would be at home, sleeping soundly and dreaming sweet dreams.


	14. Sharing and Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The council is impatient, and so is everyone else. Sasha is also feeling meaningless, Thomas is hurt, and Judy comes through as mother hen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The council is impatient, and so is everyone else", I say, but 'everyone' obviously excludes you, my lovely readers, who so patiently waits for my far-in-between updates. Thank you :) 
> 
> If it is of interests to you; the reason why this story takes a while is (among other things, like work and personal issues) that I'm still struggling with pacing it. That means I struggle with including necessary details and events, without straight up just posting my outline, or adding ungodly amounts of fillings. "Filler chapters" or "filler paragraphs" are infinitely more boring to write than to read, but not writing them, in this case, makes me feel like I'm jumping ahead. I'm hoping to get over this self-imposed writers' block soon, and in the attempts of getting to the juicy parts of this story faster, a few chapters might be really short or strangely paced. This chapter is also not beta-read or carefully edited, but I need it off my mind for the previously stated reason. I thank you for your patience and understanding!

God fucking dammit, was everything that circled around Thomas’s head for long enough for him to catch the words. God fucking dammit, everything had been going so well. 

And now, he once again found himself trapped between the two feuding women he worked with. 

Judy’s office was in its usual state, the odd mix between the old fashioned doilies on the modern glass table carrying through the whole room. They had been called in a few days earlier, a message brought to them from another operative. They figured it would have to be urgent if they were called to the headquarters, and meeting in a dark cafe somewhere wasn’t deemed safe enough. 

Judy had received what news they had for her, but the whole time, Thomas could tell something was crawling under her skin. Sasha hadn’t seemed to notice, but then again, a lot of things had changed within her since that one morning. She seemed happier. Less on edge. So full of life - and sincerely so! - before, she had faked Tammy’s happiness and lust for life it seemed, but slowly, Sasha’s own happiness seemed to be the one fuelling Tammy. 

And now, with a single sentence, Judy has undone it all. 

“The council is impatient.” She had begun with the excuse and made Sasha’s demeanour completely change in a fraction of a second. “While your mission is technically a side branch to the Oxley-Moore case, we would like to get confirmed to which degree Arbor Pharma is involved in their syndicate.” 

Thomas tried to diffuse the situation. Sasha was angry and Judy was on edge, both states of mind he preferred the women weren’t in. “We are being as efficient as we can without becoming suspicious,” he tried to assure Judy, but she completely ignored him, as her eyes were locked on Sasha. 

“Sasha, you know why the council chose an Eastern operative for your position.” Her voice was blank and strangely patient. Thomas knew where the conversation was going, and the last time it was there, it went less than well. Judy had been overly prudent, and Sasha had been, rightfully, pissed about it. Now, Judy’s voice was bearable for Sasha to hear, but still, no answer came. 

She was blank. Of course, she knew why she had been called in instead of an English operative. 

“They are requ- demanding that you establish further intimate contact with Falkbaum,” she wrought the words out as confidently as she could, to minimise the risk of Sasha’s expected upcoming outburst becoming rageful. 

After a long break, Sasha finally managed to push her feelings away - mostly. “Why me? Why all of this elaborate set-up with Tammy and William, why not just force me into some stripper heels and get me a pimp and sell me to Michael for a night or two? Who made the decision to spend all that time and effort to make Tammy a reality, to make her someone of actual significance, if the outcome was going to be the same anyway? Who decided I shouldn’t just be a prostitute, and make me someone actually mea-” She cut herself off. The whole time she had been staring at her coffee cup, until the very end where her eyes met Judy’s wistful face. “Of course, you did.” She sighed and looked back down into her lap. 

“I didn’t want you to feel meaningless,” Judy began her explanation. “I know how much you hate being called in just to seduce people. I had hoped we could get through a mission together, without you hating my every move.” 

More silence. 

Eventually, Sasha spoke. “Thank you. I guess.” Confusion was evident on her face. “At least I know not to blame you. But I do still feel meaningless.” Her face fell into cold lines. “Not that it matters. One’s personal comfort is unimportant compared to the success of a mission.” She cited the words of her superiors at the SVR, more to herself than to Thomas or Judy. 

Thomas tried to speak up. “Sasha, you’re not meaningless-” 

“Yes, Thomas, I am,” she snapped against his voice of reason with untamed rage. “I could be replaced with any Eastern European pussy out there, for all the council cares.” 

“Then I assume I could be replaced with any wanker from Westminster?” He quickly grew impatient. 

“For all the council cares? Yes, yes you could!” Sasha spat, and her ice-cold expression cut through Thomas’ steely impatience and hurt something softer beneath. It flashed through his eyes in sheer shines that could easily evolve into tears. Sasha looked at Judy to flee from the confrontation. “Are we done here?” 

Judy nodded. “You know what to do.” And Sasha took her chance to leave and stand lonely in the lobby. 

Inside the office, Thomas looked to his boss and handler. 

“Am I replaceable?” he asked. 

“Neither of you are,” Judy answered. She had a motherly wrinkle between her worried brows, one Thomas was sure she didn’t show foreign agents. Judy was her own agent’s mother hen, since they rarely got the chance to see their own families. 

Thomas nodded and rose, ready to leave, but Judy stopped him. 

“Thomas, you have to pretend to be clueless as William.” She hesitated and looked to the side in prudence. “But I know what you and Sasha are doing, and as a woman of age,” she rose her brows and looked back to Thomas for emphasis, “I would suggest the two of you talk, in private, about what this strategy means and does to you both.” The sagely mother hen had a streak of matchmaker, as Thomas nodded in understanding and left her behind in her office. 

Outside, Sasha was waiting in bitter silence. Thomas went by her, and she followed him to Williams car. They were both silent for the first half of the ride, but as they passed the southern outskirts of London, Thomas spoke up. 

“Mrs Crooks is expecting us at six, so I have two hours to cheer you up.” His eyes twinkled slightly as they caught hers. 

Finally, Sasha felt ready for the confrontation. “I’m sorry for what I said. You’re not replaceable. I’m just frustrated.” 

Thomas’ hand found its way to her knee as he comforted her. “I know. I understand. Judy said, considering everything, we should probably talk about how this will affect our, um, relationship.” He went from comforting to slightly awkward. 

“Judy said that?” Sasha found her own disbelief amusing. 

“She’s not as stern as you think,” Thomas tried to explain, but Sasha cut him off

“No, I mean, Judy knows about us sleeping together?” 

“Don’t act surprised, she has a knack for reading people!” Thomas came to her defence once he saw Sasha’s amused expression. 

“I’m not surprised she found out, I’m surprised she dared to bring it up!” 

A self-satisfied smile went across Thomas’ face, as Sasha smiled herself. He had freed her, if momentarily, of her drowning thoughts.


	15. Hell.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is so god damn tired of everything. Michael is nice though?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter was pre-written many months ago, and holy hell, I love it. The working title was "trouble in paradise", but upon finishing this chapter, I decided against it. Though, I think I will use the title in a later chapter.

Hell. 

Everything was hell to Sasha, and if she had cared enough to be empathetic, she would have guessed Thomas thought so too. But there was no room spared for empathy as she found herself locked in the car with him again, on their way to the headquarters to meet Judy Hanwell for the second time in two weeks. 

He had been cold and reserved every since their method had been set to change. She had barely even had the chance to look at Michael, never mind fuck him, but Thomas had some emotion he refused to show. Very unlike him, but Sasha stayed true to her marble frontier and didn’t ask questions. 

Finally, after way too many days and hours, Thomas said the sentence he had spent ages perfecting. Or at least finishing. 

“I think Judy is right. We should talk about how this affects us.” 

Sasha burst. Always such a good boy doing what mama tells him. Asskisser. She sighed sharply. “Thomas, can you for fucking once not act like you are Hanwell’s cuckold?!” 

He looked at her flaming eyes with cold disbelief for a bit longer than he should, considering he was behind the steering wheel. Luckily, they were out of rush hour and alone on the remote road. 

“Maybe if you didn’t fuck around, I wouldn’t be a cuck.” His remark was icy, but it still stung him more than Sasha. 

“Un-fucking-believable,” she sighed and rolled her eyes, before changing the subject. “Why did she call us in again already?” 

Thomas sighed impatiently. “I called us in. I don’t trust to send these documents. I want to deliver them in person.” 

Sasha ignored him, as words flashed through her mind. Asslicker, over-achiever. 

 

Thankfully, Thomas’ annoyance mostly dissipated when they arrived at the compound. The grey light from the cloudy afternoon sky flowed through the high windows of Judy’s office. Once again, the glass coffee table was fully set with everything from tea- and coffee pots to decorative white doilies on the mahogany tray. 

Thomas’ words were sand in Sasha’s ears, prickling but running back out, when she spotted the crocheted table linen, and let her pupils dilate on the new and much more interesting target. The intricate knotwork reminded her of the carefully crafted serviettes Tammy and William’s neighbour brought out whenever they paid her a visit. 

“Sasha? Why aren’t you paying attention?” Judy’s words brought her back to the office. 

“I’m bored.” She turned her head with an angry jerk when she realized Judy had asked her a question. “It’s been four months, and I’m doing absolutely nothing. Oh, wait, except being forced to fuck Falkbaum, and being shamed for it.” 

Sasha’s impatience and stubbornness were wearing Judy’s patience thin. “Well, you’re not the main operative on this mission. Some uneventful episodes are to be expected.” 

“I was the main operative in Crimea. You pulled me from the heart of a treason investigation to have me be some meaningless trophy wife on a side quest of the Oxley-Moore case. And now you’re-” 

Judy cut her short with a sharp tone and practically scolded the girl. “Well, if you had listened to what your coworker has been telling us, you would know that this is not just ‘some side quest’ anymore.”

Sasha’s anger retreated at the harsh look Judy gave her. She was right, she was being unprofessional. Leaning back in her seat in defeat and shame, she swallowed her pride and asked in a calm voice without looking up, “I’m sorry, Thomas. What were you saying?” 

Thomas elegantly ignored the hot-headed women's feuding and continued as if nothing happened. He pulled out copies of documents from the firm and went on to explain. “I think you’re correct in your theory, Judy. It became obvious when I extended to manage finance for the hospital as well. Falkbaum is cashing in absurd amounts of money from transplants, but I’ve never seen any kind of identification of the donors and I have no idea whatsoever to where the actual hospital is.” 

“Great job, Thomas.” Judy showered him with praise. “Keep these kinds of documents coming, the stats division are doing wonders with them. I’ll have them match these up with kidnapping rates,” she said and gathered the documents Thomas had brought. “Do you have anything to report, Sasha?” It was a genuine question, but nothing could stop it from sounding condescending to the undermined Belarussian. 

“Mrs Crooks from across the street has found a new oatmeal cookie recipe and has invited us over for dinner next week.” She turned up her face with a savage look in her eyes that perfectly matched her barely-contained rage as she counted the unbearably long seconds until Judy released her from the hellish room with the words “you’re dismissed”. Her determined legs carried her away from her untrusting supervisor so quickly she didn’t see her motion for Thomas to stay behind. Only when she reached the expensive blue Jaguar, she realized he had the keys. Stubbornly, she waited next to the car for him to join her. 

 

“Is everything okay between the two of you?” Judy asked in a motherly tone when Sasha left the room. 

“Tammy and William are doing great.” Thomas stood up. He couldn't wait until he could leave the room and join Sasha. Her and Judy’s feud became soul-suckingly clear when one of them was absent, and thus, his and Sasha’s own feud did as well. Maybe he was being unreasonable? Considering their long drive home, he would prefer his coworker knew he had her back, rather than kissing up to his handler. 

“What about Thomas and Sasha?” Judy was persistent.

Impatience flooded Thomas. As if his answer would change anything. In a moment of complete understanding of Sasha, he spoke. “They’re not important for the mission.” Without another word, he walked out. 

 

When he joined Sasha by the car and unlocked it, she didn’t even look at him, she just jerked the door open and closed it so closely behind her again that Thomas feared she might hurt herself. The tension in the car was suffocating any words Thomas tried to force out. Now remained the two-hour drive through rush-hour, back to north London, and he feared she might hurt him if he spoke. Eventually, he gathered his courage and asked in a steady voice, “Sasha, what’s wrong?” 

She ignored him. 

He sighed and asked louder and more persistently, “Sasha, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“What do you care?” Her voice was cold and she looked away. 

Thomas sighed impatiently again. “You’re being childish. Let’s talk about this like adults.” 

“Adults? You guys don't seem to think of me as an adult! Did you even hear how Judy scolded me?” Neither of them was looking at the other. Thomas was concentrating on not driving them off the road, and Sasha was concentrating on not strangling him in anger. 

“Yes, because as opposed to you, I actually listen when people are talking.” His voice rose to somewhere just below shouting, surprising both himself and Sasha. He was never one to actually get angry, but the immature woman next to him was ticking him off. Their eyes met the second of his verbal offence and he hissed at the girl. “If you don’t want this whole thing to fail and fall apart, then you accept your place as Tammy Gardner, no matter how boring you find her, or what whoring around you have to do.”

Sasha was stunned at his harsh words. She would never have expected it from him. When she didn’t answer, Thomas turned his head back to the road and continued, “I can’t believe I should have to tell you that… I really thought you were more professional.” Disbelief replaced disapproval as he neared the end of his musings. “Do you really value your own entertainment over the success of a mission? What… That’s nothing like the Sasha I met four months ago…” His hands were tightening and loosening their grip on the steering wheel, as he slowly let go of his anger. Looking forward, he didn’t notice how Sasha cramped up in the passenger seat. 

Her hands were around her stomach, trying to support her from collapsing under the pressure of Thomas’ words. The hollow spot in her stomach didn’t help much in upholding her usually strong stature but only made her breathing slightly shallow. Tears were prickling behind her eyes, threatening to spill her thoughts to the man next to her. She sat still and avoided breathing until she had her emotions under relative control and trusted her voice not to expose her sadness. “You think I want it to fail?” Fuck, her voice betrayed her. Her tone was laced with grainy vibrations only present in those who are about to cry. 

Hearing the change in her tone, Thomas looked over at her shiny eyes and was immediately hit with a blow of guilt. “Sasha, that’s not what I meant…” he began in a pleading tone, trying to comfort the girl. “Please, don’t cr-” 

She cut him short with her sudden sporadic movement, as she pushed herself against her door, trying to distance herself from gentle, yet suddenly much more threatening man, next to her. “No, I’m not crying, don’t mention it, don't think about it, I’m not using it against you, I promise, I just-” Her words grew shorter and shorter as her voice rose in volume from obvious desperation, and tears spilt from her eyes. Most of them fell on her expensively soft cotton shirt, but one landed on the leather upholstered seat she had tried to move away from, with a tiny ‘tap’ at the collision, which in Sasha’s anxious mind felt like a boulder being thrown into her sea of humiliation. She stilled and sat back properly in her seat, looking straight ahead, determined not to let any more insecurities escape her for Thomas to see. 

He tried to comfort her but at his first curious ‘Sasha?’, she flung her hand up between them, signalling for him to leave her be. The rest of the ride home was a whole new kind of strangling silence until William broke it minutes before they arrived home. “I have to go to the office and finish some reports. Will you be alright alone?” 

“See? You treat me like a child!” Tammy said through gritted teeth. “As if I can't take care of myself…”

“Jesus Christ, I thought we were done with this argument…” 

“It’s not like we came to a resolution.” 

“And whose fault is that?” The purring from the car stopped and William jerked his head and stared harshly into Tammy's auburn eyes. 

“Why on earth would it be mine?” Her voice rose to just below shouting. Instead of waiting for an explanation, she stepped out of the car and shut the door angrily behind her. 

William followed her to their front door and let his volume raise above hers. “Because you’re the one who refuses to let me help you!” 

Tammy whipped around in the doorway and screamed in her husband's unbearably beautiful and stoic face. “No! - You’re the one who refuses to help! You have taken my purpose away and given me some crap excuse of a passion. As if some meaningless paintings could ever replace what I had going on!”

God knew he wanted nothing more than set the girl in place and explain to her where to put her priorities, but he knew it was a lost cause. Instead, he stared at her with ice-blue fury in his eyes, fighting the reddish-brown flames of anger in hers. After eternities of tightening their grips on the suffering door frame, they gave up, pulled away from one another, neither of them thinking to close the door. 

 

Red, more red. Yellow like lies. More red again, making orange. Fire emerged on the abused canvas, as Tammy stabbed her brush into the stretched linen over and over again to the beat of the heavy music in the background. She didn’t notice how she clenched her jaw and gripped the brush tightly. Her face was inches from the picture and the sharp fumes from the oil paints cut in her eyes, nose and throat, but at least gave her an excuse for her tears and gravelly voice. She pulled back from the easel holding her work and took it in. To say she admired it would be cruel. 

It was ugly. Macabre. Jesus’ face was strained in pain, as the vinegar-soaked sponge dripped the acidic liquid onto his face from where it drifted down to mix with the blood flowing from his wounds. Flames were surrounding the cross, consuming it and most of the background. 

The saviour shouldn’t be going up in hellfire. But there he was. Stretched out on a cross and her canvas, he didn’t even beg to be released. Only screamed ‘Your will be done!’. 

Her face twisted into an uglier and uglier expression for every second she stared at the beautifully crafted piece in front of her, growing more and more angry in the process, until a knock on the open door to her studio released her fury. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!” She shouted, not caring about who interrupted her, only about the fact that she was interrupted. She flung her brush into the floor, spun around, and locked her fiery eyes on her intruder. Michael. His shocked expression made her relax and apologize. “I - I'm sorry, Michael, I didn’t mean to -” 

“No, no, I shouldn’t be barging in like that,” he cut off her explaining and reassured her the mistake was his. “I met Mrs Crooks on my walk and she told me she heard shouting from over here. Your front door was open, so I figured I would check in on y- Did you make those?” He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the paintings behind the distressed woman. 

Immediately embarrassed, Tammy turned off the music and tried to usher him out of her home studio. “I guess yeah, but I don’t want to show you,” she mumbled and tried to push him out the door, to no avail. 

“It’s incredible,” he mused and stepped past her into her office. “I love your brushwork… And the clear colours… It’s so different from the ones you have in the square. It reminds me of ‘The Red Vineyard’ by Van Gogh - not the motif of course, but the execution.” He shot her a friendly smile, but it faded quickly when he noticed the tears streaming down her face. Turning his back to her artwork, he stepped closer to his silently weeping friend. “Tammy, I am so sorry. This is your space, I shouldn’t have intruded.” 

Not able to process any more apologies or explanations, she put a hand on his chest to distance herself from him but realized too late that her hands were covered in bright red paint, that now was smeared on Michaels obviously expensive shirt. This time the flow of tears were accompanied by audible exasperated sobs as she frantically pulled away and ran to her sink to try and rinse it off her hands. 

“Tammy,” he tried to comfort her, but her anxiety consumed her. He took her hands in his and looked at her insistently. “Tammy. It’s alright.” His bright eyes sought to comfort her, and once she noticed the red flashes filling the ridges between the diamond settings on her wedding ring, she gave in to his warm reassurances and let him hug her as she cried, holding her hands against her chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m sorry I - I ruined your s-shirt…” she managed between sobs after a little while. 

“Don’t worry… My dry cleaner has removed worse stains,” he smiled at her, making her chuckle and dry her eyes. Holding each her arms, he looked at her curiously and caring. “Tammy, is everything alright?” 

The cathartic flood of emotions had left her stable enough to answer with a skilfully crafted lie. “Yeah, I guess this move is just tougher on me than I thought…” she stared into the floor. “My whole life was in Edinburgh, you know…” Michael’s thumbs brushed gently over her arms where he held her, and she realized she was rambling. Trying to change the subject, she sniffled and looked up at him. “Do you want some tea?” 

The realization that he was hugging and comforting his friend's wife, maybe a little too closely, donned on him, and he pulled away. “Where is William? Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” 

She dried her eyes and smudged paint and mascara in each others place. “He’s working late… some reports he needed to finish. Won’t you stay with me? Just until he comes home…” She looked at him with pleading eyes and he sighed. 

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.” 

 

Sitting in the light and well-equipped kitchen, they sipped their tea and kept a low conversation. Tammy’s ring was on the table between her and Michael, staring at her, hoping to be taken back soon. 

“After you’ve been to a jeweller,” had Tammy promised silently as she took it off before scrubbing the most stubborn spots of paint on her hands off with paint thinner. Now, her cold, bare hands warmed themselves on the sides of her cup and she slowly zoned out, until one of Michael’s large hands covered one of hers and brought back her focus. He smiled at her. 

“You aren’t paying attention,” he said with a broad grin. “A penny for your thoughts?” 

Tammy smiled but shook her head. 

“No? Then how about ten thousand pounds for the Jesus painting and the story behind it?” he joked, trying to make her laugh. 

“How about I grant it to you in my will, and you sell it for a million after my passing instead?” she challenged. 

“Darling, I am far too curious to wait that long.” 

“What are you going to do about it? Killing me is kind of cruel,” she complained with a wink and sipped her tea.

He chuckled. “And far too messy. And, then I still won't know what’s on your mind.” 

Tammy gave in to his persuasions and sighed. “I’m just thinking about the ring… and what William is going to say.” She looked at the ring with an empty expression before turning her worried gaze to Michael. 

“I guess I’ve been keeping him away from you lately,” he mumbled, suddenly struck with guilt. The recent busy and long hours had kept all members of executive management at the headquarters for longer than what would be considered good for a couple. Being a bachelor himself, he hadn’t given it much thought, and Jacob didn’t have someone to come home to either. Michael turned his gaze and concentration to the woman in front of him. “Tammy, if I were to ask you, if you’ve adjusted to living somewhere new yet, how would that make you feel? And how would you answer?” 

She chuckled nervously. “What are you? A therapist?” 

“Well, I am a doctor, so I know a thing or two.” 

She took in the question thoroughly and hesitated before finally answering. “I guess a part of me wanted to stay in Edinburgh, and no matter how much I try to love London, I just can’t seem to succeed.” Tears pressed behind Sasha’s eyes, praising and hating her newfound outlet. “And I know how much this means to William, and that it’s good for the company that he’s here. I know it’s selfish to want to be somewhere else.” Tammy’s hands clenched her teacup, and her strained knuckles matched the white porcelain as she looked down to avoid Michael’s eyes. Her strangled voice only let her whisper. “I just wish I wasn’t here.” 

Silence filled the room, and Michael took pity on the girl. 

 

“Tammy?” William’s soft voice made the girl and Michael look up. Michael turned around in his seat, whereas Tammy only lifted her eyes to greet her husband. “What’s going on?” He put down his briefcase and walked over to the table to comfort his wife, but she was ahead of him. She rose and walked away without looking at either man. 

“I’m going to bed.” With the excuse and a blank face, she left the room and went upstairs. 

“Tammy?” William called after her softly, hoping to make her stay and settle his confusion, but she had already ascended the stairs and was beyond reach. 

Upon seeing William’s lost face, Michael chuckled. “Do I need to have a sit-down with you too?” 

William took Tammy’s place in the hot seat across from Michael and looked to his friend for support. “I just thought we would have settled by now.” 

“Well, you’ve been with us for four months now. Four months is usually the mark where the effects of big changes or experiences set in, so if you are experiencing some turbulence at the moment, it makes sense,” he comforted. 

“All we did was move to a new place? That’s hardly traumatic…” William trailed off and stared into the table, where his gaze met the ring his wife wasn’t wearing. Sudden anger replaced his frustrations and completely blocked out Michaels further explanations. He hit his hand flat against the table over the ring, interrupting Michael. He picked it up and held it out in front of him to empathise the newfound fury. Was this jealousy? Why on earth would it agitate him so much? Thomas wondered. With narrowed eyes, William spat out. “What is going on?” 

Michael first jumped at William’s harsh movement, but then rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently at William’s cold expression, snatched the ring from his fingers and held it in front of him. “Get your head out of the gutter. Your wife is frustrated and unhappy but says nothing - for your sake. How about you return her favour?” He continued with a sigh. “She got paint on her ring, that’s why she’s not wearing it.” He made sure William could see the red lines between the settings. Seeing his expression soften with shame, he put the ring back down and continued in a professional tone, as if he hadn’t just scolded his coworker like a lazy intern. “I trust you and Jacob finished the reports?” 

William rubbed his forehead, too tired to be roasted on his work. “Yeah. They’re in a folder in Jacob’s office.” 

Thankfully Michael didn’t test him further, only rose and patted his friend on the back. “Good,” he said with a smile. “Then you’re off for the weekend. Take Tammy somewhere nice, okay?” He picked up his coat and left, leaving William alone with his thoughts on the cool Thursday summer night.


End file.
